X 


7 


<n- 


**- 


"Bridges  are  all  burned.    To-morrow  I  begin  teaching — where  do 
you  think  ?  " 


The  Valley  of  Gold 


BY  DAVID  HOWARTH 


A  Tale  of  the  Saskatchewan 


FRONTISPIECE  BY 
H.  WESTON  TAYLOR 


A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY 

Publishers  New  York 

Published  by  arrangement  with  Fleming  H.   Revell  Company 
Printed  in  U.  S.  A. 


Copyright,  1921,  by 
FLEMING  H.  REVELL  COMPANY 


New  York:  158  Fifth  Avenue 
Chicago:  17  North  Wabash  Ave. 
London:  21  Paternoster  Square 
Edinburgh :  75  Princes  Street 


TO  MT  MOTHER 


2136305 


Contents 

I.  HEAVY  ODDS 1 1 

II.  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD       ...      25 

III.  BOUQUETS 37 

IV.  THE  MAN,  ROB  McCLURE          .        .      46 

V.  AT  THE  WATER-HOLE       ...      65 

VI.  THE  THRESHING  CHAMPIONS        .        .      76 

VII.  HALLOWE'EN  ON  THE  QU'APPELLE     .      85 

VIII.  THE  RIVAL  BOSSES     ....      93 

IX.  A  LAND  SHARK          ....      99 

X.  THE  DREAMER 109 

XI.  THE  THIRD  RIDER    .        .        .        .119 

XII.  ANYTHING  is  FAIR  IN  LOVE  ...        .     128 

XIII.  THE  RED  KNIGHT  SCORES          .        .135 

XIV.  BEHIND  THE  GREEN  BAIZE  DOOR        .     139 

XV.  ONE  BLACK  NIGHT     ....     146 

XVI.  THE  SPIDER  WEAVES          .        .        .158 

XVII.  HANK  FOYLE,  UNEXPECTED  GUEST    .     177 

XVIII.  THE  BIRD  OF  THE  COULEE          .        .186 

XIX.  CHESLEY  SYKES  UNCOVERS  His  HAND     193 

XX.  A  FAWN  AT  BAY        .        .        .         .207 

XXI.  THE  COUNTERPLOT    ....    219 


CONTENTS 


XXII.  WOLVES 

XXIII.  THE  ADVENTURE  AT  THE  BRIDGE 

XXIV.  THE  STORM  ROCK      .... 

XXV.  THE  EMPTY  SADDLE  .... 

XXVI.  THE    RED    KNIGHT    SINGS    OF    THE 

FAIRIES 


226 
234 
243 

258 

264 


I 

HEAVY  ODDS 

THE  east  wind  blew  furiously,  beating  gray 
sheets  down  the  streaming  panes.    Along 
the  village  street  flowed  a  turbid  torrent, 
the   squalid   wash   of   an   "  old-timer-three-days'- 
blow "    from   the   Great   Lakes.     Threshing  was 
hung  up.     Every  wheel  was  stopped  for  a  thou- 
sand miles  across  the  prairies. 

Sparrow's  pool-room  was  a  cavern  of  smoke. 
Through  the  blue-ringed  mists  of  tobacco  moved 
the  unkempt  silhouettes  of  boisterous  threshermen. 
Suddenly  over  the  hubbub  rose  a  jeering  cry. 

Ned  Pullar  leaned  down  and  knocked  the  ashes 
out  of  his  briar.  His  immobile  face  gave  no  sign 
that  the  cry  was  an  insulting  challenge.  Opening 
his  knife  he  slowly  scooped  out  the  bowl  of  his 
pipe.  Tapping  the  inverted  briar  on  the  palm  of 
his  hand,  he  proceeded  leisurely  to  fill  in  the  to- 
bacco. This  act  duly  completed,  he  turned  about 
and  looked  McClure  in  the  face.  In  his  eyes  was 
a  faint  twinkle,  but  he  elected  to  hold  his  tongue. 
His  deliberate  silence  provoked  his  tormentor. 
Hitherto  McClure  had  addressed  him  in  a  low 

ii 


12  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

tone.  Now  his  great  voice  rose  above  the  chatter 
of  the  players  and  the  noise  of  the  crashing  balls. 

"  Come,  Pullar!  "  he  sneered.  "  You're  yellow. 
How  about  odds  ?  " 

Play  ceased  and  all  eyes  turned  on  the  two  men. 

"Pull  easy,  Rob!"  adjured  some  partisan  of 
McClure's.  "  He's  soft  in  the  mouth." 

The  crowd  raised  applauding  guffaws. 

"  Naw,  it's  the  blind  staggers,  pards,"  cried  a 
smooth  voice.  "  Watch  his  blinkers." 

The  immoderate  laugh  of  the  crowd  had  a  curi- 
ously menacing  note. 

Pullar's  blinkers  were  not  blinking,  however. 
He  held  McClure's  eyes  with  a  level  glance. 

Thrusting  hands  to  hips  akimbo  McClure  cried 
insolently : 

"  S-s-stumped !     You  quitter !  " 

Pullar  was  still  silent.  His  clear  eye  was  taking 
in  the  situation.  McClure  was  plainly  bent  on 
baiting  him  and  his  purpose  was  beginning  to  dawn 
on  the  Valley  boss.  A  quick  survey  of  the  room 
discovered  to  him  the  presence  of  nine  of  Mc- 
Clure's men.  He  could  see  them  moving  about 
into  position  to  cut  off  all  egress  from  the  one  door. 
Not  a  man  of  his  own  gang  was  in  sight  and  the 
two  or  three  outsiders  were  not  promising  allies. 
The  stench  of  liquor  and  the  savage  flashing  of  wild 
eyes  warned  him  of  their  fell  intention.  In  the 
swift  process  of  his  thought  he  realized  that  they 
were  about  to  pull  him  down  and  "  jump  "  him 


HEAVY  ODDS  13 

with  the  unspeakable  savagery  of  drunken  fools. 
He  was  trapped.  With  every  sense  alert  he  went 
ahead  imperturbably  preparing  to  light  up. 

Drawing  a  wad  of  bills  from  his  pocket  Mc- 
Clure  thrust  them  under  Pullar's  nose. 

"  Five  hundred  bucks !  "  he  challenged.  "  Five 
hundred  little  bucks  to  lay  against  you  two  to  one 
that  we  can  lick  the  Valley  Outfit  in  a  thirty  day 
run  any  old  time  you  want  to  take  it  on.  No  time 
like  the  present,  Pullar !  " 

Ned  Pullar  stood  straight  and  immense,  a  mus- 
cular figure  in  overalls  and  smock.  His  fresh, 
youthful  face  looked  almost  innocently  from  under 
the  peak  of  his  cap.  His  eyes  were  serious  for  an 
instant,  then  released  an  amused  smile. 

"Rob  McClure!"  he  said  quietly.  "You  are 
developing  an  interesting  humour.  Three  times 
to-day  you  have  flaunted  this  trifling  wager  in  my 
face.  It  means  nothing  to  me — nothing  more 
than  do  you  yourself,  Robbie,  mon,  or  your  engag- 
ing gang." 

The  mocking  tone  provoked  a  swift  change  in 
McClure.  His  eyes  narrowed  to  slits  that  gleamed 
evilly.  The  rush  of  passion  rendered  him  impo- 
tently  mute.  Backing  their  boss  with  yells  of  rage 
the  gang  moved  menacingly  toward  the  speaker. 
Suddenly  above  the  foul  oaths  rang  out  a  voice. 
It  was  one  of  the  outsiders  who  had  slipped  unno- 
ticed to  the  door.  With  his  hand  on  the  knob  he 
called  out: 


14  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

"  Hold  'em,  Ned.  I'll  fetch  the  Valley  Outfit 
mighty  quick." 

There  was  a  rush  toward  him,  but  he  dashed  out 
of  the  door  and  away. 

Then  followed  an  instant  move  toward  the  soli- 
tary and  defiant  figure  of  the  Valley  boss. 

"  Halt !  You  drunken  dogs !  "  cried  Pullar  in  a 
voice  that  effected  his  purpose. 

Pausing,  the  crowd  eyed  their  quarry  cautiously, 
warned  by  the  terrible  flame  leaping  from  the  eyes 
where  but  a  moment  before  glimmered  a  whimsi- 
cal smile.  Holding  his  pipe  to  his  lips  with  a 
match  ready  to  light,  he  addressed  them  quietly. 

"  I  was  getting  ready,"  said  he,  "  to  hit  the  trail 
for  The  Craggs  when  McClure  worked  himself  up 
over  this  bet.  I'm  not  interested  in  his  little  gam- 
ble. But  I  am  tolerable  anxious  over  the  impor- 
tant matter  of  hiking  along  home  to  milk  the  cows. 
I'm  going  to  pass  out  that  door  and  I'd  hate  to 
hustle  any  of  you  fellows  unnecessarily/' 

He  took  a  step  toward  them.  There  was  an  in- 
voluntary movement  to  retreat.  Pullar  laughed 
and  the  threshers,  with  wild  yells,  rushed  at  their 
prey.  Above  the  clamour  rose  the  bull-like  roar  of 
McClure. 

"Throw  the  big  stiff!"  he  shouted.  "Mush 
him  under  your  boots  before  his  gang  get  here. 
Put  him  out  and  we'll  handle  them." 

With  answering  shouts  they  leaped  to  the  at- 
tack. Pullar  stepped  back  lightly,  feigning  retreat. 


HEAVY  ODDS  16 

Drawn  by  the \ruse  two  sprang  after  him.  Sud- 
denly they  felt  a  clutch  like  steel.  Separating  the 
two  assailants  he  brought  them  together  with  a 
trap-like  shutting  of  his  muscular  arms.  Their 
heads  met  with  a  muffled  shock  and  he  sent  them 
reeling  to  the  wall.  Hands  were  grasping  for  him 
as  he  shot  out  his  right  fist  and  his  left  and  two 
more  of  his  demented  foes  sank  to  their  knees. 
Making  a  lightning  side  step  he  sprang  away,  free- 
ing himself  from  the  gripping  tentacles  of  the 
gang. 

In  a  flashing  glimpse  he  found  that  he  had 
dodged  the  attack  en  masse  only  to  throw  himself 
in  the  path  of  Snoopy  Bill  Baird.  The  huge  slouch- 
ing form  was  charging  him  wickedly.  He  twisted 
aside  to  elude  the  onset  but  was  unable  to  avoid 
the  kick  of  the  heavy  boot.  It  caught  him  along 
the  cheek-bone,  ripping  the  flesh.  He  closed, 
clinching  his  assailant.  The  big  fellows  were  well 
matched,  but  with  a  confusing  speed  Pullar  had 
pinned  Baird's  arms  in  a  girdling  grip.  Tripping 
his  great,  writhing  captive  over  his  hip  he  flung 
him  clean  away  above  his  head.  Like  a  flying 
missile  the  man  shot  through  the  air,  crashing 
down  sprawlingly  upon  a  pool  table. 

Pullar  was  not  aware  that  his  huge  antagonist 
lay  on  the  table  a  groaning  heap,  for  they  were 
dragging  him  down  on  all  sides.  Two  of  his  as- 
sailants clung  to  his  arms,  robbing  him  of  any 
means  of  defense,  while  a  third  belaboured  him 


16  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

fiercely  about  the  head.  Still  another  fastened  on 
his  throat.  This  latter  clutched  Pullar's  neck  with 
both  hands,  gouging  his  thumbs  into  the  windpipe 
with  vicious  design  to  strangle.  The  vital  grip 
began  to  tell  and  slowly  at  first,  then  with  a  chuck, 
they  went  to  the  floor. 

"Hold  him!  Hold  him!"  shouted  McClure 
gleefully  as  he  danced  about  seeking  a  chance  to 
strike.  But  a  sudden  change  came  over  the  battle. 
The  fall  had  shaken  the  bulldog  clutch.  By  a  pro- 
digious effort  Pullar  wrenched  his  right  arm  free. 
There  was  a  series  of  quick,  jabbing  motions  and 
the  four  assailants  fell  magically  away.  With  a 
bound  Pullar  was  on  his  feet  facing  McClure.  The 
latter  struck  furiously  for  the  face  but  his  blow 
was  swept  aside  by  something  rigid.  Pullar  stood 
inside  his  enemy's  guard.  He  had  but  to  strike 
and  it  would  be  over.  He  did  not  strike.  Instead 
he  smiled  through  the  blood  and  stepped  lightly 
back. 

"  No,  McClure ! "  said  he  with  a  grim  smile. 
"  I  don't  need  to." 

The  other  looked  at  him  a  moment  then 
breathed  a  low  oath  of  surprise.  At  that  instant 
there  was  a  great  shout  and  the  Valley  Gang 
charged  through  the  door.  Turning  to  the  gang 
Ned  Pullar  lifted  his  hands  and  shouted  out  above 
the  tumult: 

"  Back,  men!     This  fracas  is  over!  " 

"Not  on  yer  life!"  cried  Easy  Murphy,  an- 


HEAVY  ODDS  17 

gered  to  fighting-mad  pitch  by  the  sight  of  the 
bloody  face  of  his  boss. 

"The  fight  is  over!"  cried  Ned,  holding  back 
his  men. 

"  Begobs !  Ye  don't  know  this  wan  Irish  divil, 
Ned  ?  "  screamed  Murphy.  "  I  wull  be  af thurr 
pluggin'  the  lights  uv  me  f  rind  McClure." 

At  the  words  he  stepped  toward  McClure,  fol- 
lowed by  the  others.  But  he  was  intercepted  by  a 
swift  motion  of  Pullar. 

"  No,  Easy ! "  cried  the  young  boss  firmly. 
"  Stick  with  me,  lad.  This  is  my  powwow.  We 
are  about  to  smoke  the  pipe  of  peace." 

For  a  fleeting  instant  he  caught  the  Irishman's 
eye.  The  flash  of  intelligence  that  passed  between 
them  checked  the  belligerent  passion  in  Murphy's 
wild  heart.  With  a  significant  and  rueful  nod  the 
thresher  agreed  to  Pullar's  wish. 

"Ah,  Ned,  darlint ! "  said  he  affectionately,  tak- 
ing in  the  room  at  a  sweeping  glance.  "  For  why 
have  ye  bin  mussin'  up  Rob's  bowld  byes  ?  'Tis  a 
cyclone  blower  ye  are,  me  hearty.  Go  ahead  wid 
the  show.  The  Valley  Gang's  occupyin'  the  front 
sates." 

With  a  very  bad  grace  the  Valley  Outfit  fol- 
lowed their  spokesman's  lead.  The  eyes  of  the 
two  gangs  turned  to  Ned. 

Aside  from  the  gash  along  his  cheek  he  was  un- 
hurt. Walking  in  among  McClure's  men  he 
picked  up  his  pipe.  Repacking  the  tobacco  care- 


18  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

fully  he  lit  up.  Throwing  a  series  of  blue  circles 
to  the  ceiling  he  indulged  in  a  moment's  reminis- 
cence. Finally  he  spoke,  addressing  Easy  Murphy 
in  his  usual  quiet  tone. 

"A  few  minutes  ago,"  said  he,  "  Rob  McClure 
was  eating  his  head  off  over  a  certain  little  propo- 
sition when — we  had  a  slight  interruption.  In 
fact,  I  was  anxious  to  get  home  to  the  milking. 
I  have  changed  my  mind.  Rob's  proposal  will  in- 
terest you.  He  wants  to  stack  his  huskies  up 
against  the  Valley  Gang  on  a  thirty-day  run.  He 
contends  laying  down  a  trifle  of  five  hundred  dol- 
lars that  he  can  lick  my  gang " 

Here  arose  a  sudden  commotion,  savage  threats 
and  a  sinister  movement  of  the  Valley  Gang.  Ned 
waved  his  men  back  with  a  laugh. 

"  Just  a  minute,  lads/'  said  he.  "  Let  me  have 
my  say.  McClure  pretends  that  he  can  lick  the 
Valley  Outfit  in  a  thirty  day  out-put.  Strange  as 
it  may  seem  I  cannot  agree  with  him.  If  he  will 
make  a  real  bet,  make  it  cash  and  approve  Jack 
Butte  as  holder  of  stakes,  we'll  be  able  to  start 
something  right  off  the  bat." 

On  the  heels  of  his  words  rose  a  chorus  of  defies 
from  his  men.  Hands  flew  to  pockets  and  wads 
appeared.  Snoopy  Bill  caught  his  feet  groggily 
scenting  a  gamble.  In  Rob  McClure's  eyes  shone 
the  gleam  of  the  shark. 

"Now  you're  spunking  up!"  said  he  with  a 
sneer.  "  Butte's  our  man." 


HEAVY  ODDS  19 

Turning  to  one  of  his  gang,  he  said: 

"  Scoot  out,  Ford,  and  get  him." 

While  the  man  started  off  to  carry  out  his  bid- 
ding he  whipped  out  his  check  book  and  filled  in 
a  form.  As  Snoopy  Bill  spied  the  amount  he  let 
out  a  low  whistle. 

"  Two  thousand !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Rob,  you're 
a  la-la." 

McClure  handed  the  book  to  Pullar.  Ned  read 
it  with  immobile  face.  Amid  a  deep  silence  the 
crowd  pressed  around  the  bosses.  Would  Pullar 
call  the  bluff? 

The  year  of  which  we  write  was  the  fall  of  nine- 
teen hundred.  The  smoke  of  the  tractor  was 
rarely  seen  in  the  land.  Of  the  gas-power  ma- 
chine there  was  no  sign  whatever.  For  five  years 
Ned  had  swung  steadily  along  the  Valley's  brow 
with  his  twenty-horse,  thirty-six  inch  portable 
mill,  threshing  the  line  of  farmers  rimming  the 
northern  bank  of  The  Qu'Appelle.  If  a  farmer 
got  Pullar's  mill  it  assured  him  a  straight  crew,  a 
quick,  clean  job  and  all  his  grain.  The  Valley 
Gang  was  thoroughly  workmanlike,  the  crack  out- 
fit of  the  Pellawa  stretches. 

This  supremacy  was  now  disputed.  Some  ten 
years  before  McClure  had  come  from  the  East 
with  bags  of  money  and  bushels  of  confidence,  not 
to  mention  a  stock  of  real  ability.  He  was  keen  to 
get  and  heady  and  aggressive  in  the  getting. 
Three  years  before  he  had  entered  the  threshing 


20  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

game  and  pitched  in  with  his  usual  gusto.  One 
of  his  first  moves  was  to  cross  the  Valley  and 
make  a  bold  raid  on  Pullar's  run.  But  his  effort 
failed.  Pullar's  line  of  jobs  remained  intact.  He 
managed  to  pick  up  a  few  farmers  thrown  on  the 
threshing  market  through  the  defunct  condition  of 
their  syndicate  machine.  Since  Pullar's  outfit  was 
full  up  for  a  big  season  the  cluster  of  jobs  fell  to 
McClure.  The  farmers  of  the  Pullar  run  threw 
out  some  banter  and  an  occasional  jab  resenting 
the  attempt  of  McClure  to  cut  in.  This  nettled 
McClure  and  was  the  small  beginning  of  a  bitter 
rivalry.  Smothering  his  chagrin  McClure  set  to 
work  to  build  up  a  gang  that  would  lower  the 
colours  of  the  Valley  Outfit.  At  the  end  of  the 
season  it  was  found  that  Pullar's  bushelage  had 
far  exceeded  that  of  the  rival  machine.  The  fol- 
lowing year  repeated  their  fortunes.  Then  Mc- 
Clure startled  Pellawa  by  exchanging  his  portable 
outfit  for  an  immense  forty-inch  separator  driven 
by  a  thirty-horse  tractor  steam  power,  of  course. 
The  new  machine  was  equipped  with  self-feeder, 
self-bagger  and  cyclone  blower.  Adding  exten- 
sively to  his  run  he  put  on  a  large  gang  and  began 
the  season  with  everything  in  his  favour. 

Though  facing  alarming  odds,  Pullar  took  up 
the  gauge  in  his  quiet  way.  Rumours  of  record 
days  by  both  machines  drifted  about  the  settlement 
with  the  result  that  the  annual  threshing  derby 
began  to  show  a  tendency  toward  even  money. 


HEAVY  ODDS  21 

The  interested  public  pricked  up  its  ears,  enjoying 
the  come-back  of  Ned.  This  popularity,  with  the 
complication  of  a  three-day  boose  fest,  was  re- 
sponsible for  McClure's  insulting  challenge. 

Ned  was  still  scanning  the  check  when  Jack 
Butte  appeared  in  the  doorway. 

"  Just  in  time,  Jack !  "  greeted  Ned  with  a  grin. 
"  Hold  this  money  for  McClure.  We  are  hook- 
ing up  for  a  two-hand  game,  gang  for  gang." 

There  was  a  roar  of  applause  from  the  Valley 
threshers.  Above  the  noise  rose  the  voice  of  Easy 
Murphy.  He  was  performing  the  sailor's  horn- 
pipe before  the  shifty  form  of  Snoopy  Bill. 

"  Come  across  wid  yer  dust,"  challenged 
Murphy.  "  Fifty  till  fifty  we  skin  ye  aloive!  " 

"  Taken !  "  was  the  eager  acceptance.  "  Here, 
Butte's  the  dough.  You  can  hand  it  back  when 
the  cows  come  home." 

Butte  was  deluged  with  wagers. 

"  Hold  your  horses !  "  cried  he,  lifting  protest- 
ing hands.  "  Two  at  a  time.  Come  along  quietly 
and  we'll  fix  it  all  snug." 

Taking  out  his  note-book  he  made  punctilious 
entry  of  all  stakes.  His  task  completed  he  took 
the  trouble  to  plainly  restate  conditions. 

"  I'll  bank  this  bunch  of  grass/'  he  concluded. 
"  The  game  winds  up  at  eight  p.  M.  on  the  last  day 
of  October.  We'll  meet  in  Louie  Swale's  Empo- 
rium and  cash  in.  Meet  me  there  at  ten  o'clock. 
And,  gentlemen " 


22  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

He  paused,  reading  the  faces  of  the  bosses  and 
their  men  with  keen  eyes. 

"  This  game's  to  be  run  on  the  square.  Do  you 
get  me  ?  " 

"Right-o!"  agreed  McClure.  "We'll  shear 
these  lambs  on  Hallowe'en." 

Ignoring  the  jibe  Ned  Pullar  pointed  to  the 
checks  wedged  in  the  pile  of  bills.  They  were 
McClure's  and  his  own.  Speaking  quietly  to 
Butte  he  said: 

"  You'll  cash  those  papers  and  re-bank  the  whole 
amount  in  your  own  name  ?  " 

"  Exactly !  "  replied  Butte,  flashing  sharp  eyes 
at  the  young  boss. 

"  Good !  "  was  the  low  response. 

Taking  a  step  nearer  McClure,  Pullar  fastened 
his  eyes  on  the  face  of  his  enemy.  The  lips  of  the 
older  man  were  parted  about  to  make  some  insult- 
ing fling  when  he  bit  his  tongue.  Ned's  eyes  were 
smiling  but  behind  the  smile  glittered  an  ominous 
light  that  made  McClure  strike  an  attitude  of  de- 
fense. He  retreated  a  step,  watching  the  other. 
In  an  instant  the  air  was  electric.  There  was  a 
shout  from  the  Valley  men  and  they  leaped  up  be- 
side their  boss. 

"  Since  this  little  deal  is  satisfactorily  arranged, 
McClure,"  said  Ned  casually,  "  it  may  occur  to 
you  that  your  cows  need  milking.  At  any  rate, 
the  Valley  Gang  have  taken  a  sudden  whim  to  be 
alone.  Think  it  over.  We'll  give  you  exactly 


HEAVY  ODDS  23 

one  minute  to  get  out.  If  you  are  here  sixty  sec- 
onds hence  we'll  maul  you  a  little  and — throw  you 
out" 

Ned  took  his  watch  from  his  pocket  while  the 
Valley  Gang  let  out  a  defiant  and  joyful  shout. 

There  was  a  malignant  growl  from  the  belliger- 
ent gang  across  the  room  at  the  sudden  challenge. 
Rage  swept  over  them  but  they  made  no  move  to 
close  with  their  taunting  enemies.  The  Valley 
men  flung  jeer  and  jibe  in  wild  effort  to  provoke  a 
charge.  Hissing  a  terrible  oath  McClure  turned 
to  his  men.  What  he  saw  decided  him.  Pointing 
to  the  door  he  addressed  them. 

"  Cowards !  "  he  snarled.     "  Get  out !  " 

With  a  slouching  alacrity  they  obeyed,  vanish- 
ing through  the  door  in  swift  and  ignominious  re- 
treat. McClure  passed  after  them  without  a  word. 

"  Tin  seconds  till  spare,  the  lucky  divils !  "  cried 
Easy  Murphy  regretfully. 

At  his  rueful  words  the  Valley  Outfit  lifted  a 
victorious  roar,  following  McClure  and  his  men 
with  shouts  of  derision. 

Ten  minutes  later  as  Ned  Pullar  stood  in  the 
pool-room  door  a  white  horse  dashed  by,  cantering 
along  the  slushy  street.  Astride  swayed  the  form 
of  a  girl  clothed  in  a  slicker.  Beneath  her  quaint 
hood  flashed  the  light  of  brown  eyes.  Their  quick 
glance  caught  his  salute.  She  acknowledged  the 
greeting  by  a  dainty  tip  of  her  head  and  the  faint- 
est of  smiles. 


24  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

The  slight  recognition  sent  his  blood  atingle.  In 
a  moment  she  disappeared  about  a  building.  The 
vision  of  the  girl  remained  with  him  and  a  shadow 
contended  with  the  pleasure  the  sudden  meeting 
had  brought  into  his  face.  Finally  the  shadow 
triumphed  and  a  deeply  troubled  look  came  into 
his  eyes. 

"Ah,  Mary!"  he  reflected.  "Where  will  this 
day's  work  lead  us?  " 

The  girl  was  Mary  McClure,  only  child  of  his 
avowed  enemy. 


II 

THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

THE  wind  drifted  along  the  valley  crisp 
with  the  breath  of  the  harvest  dawn.  It 
blew  gently  over  the  prairies  flowing  in 
from  the  west.  Speeding  valleyward  a  horse  and 
rider  zigzagged  in  easy  canter  through  the  shrub- 
lands.  They  clung  to  the  deep  paths  of  the  buffa- 
loes, dug  long  years  ago  by  countless  droves 
threading  their  way  to  the  stream  in  the  great 
ravine. 

It  was  the  girl's  delight  to  "  trail "  these  grass- 
grown  ruts  through  the  dense  groves  hanging 
shaggily  to  the  south  banks.  In  a  little  they  ran 
out  on  a  high  shoulder  of  The  Qu'Appelle.  Here 
the  bare  hill  was  ribbed  with  the  parallel  paths  to 
the  number  of  seven  or  eight  that  slipped  over  the 
ravine  crest,  disappearing  a  few  paces  below  into 
a  thick  grove  of  stunted  oak.  Halting  the  eager 
broncho,  the  girl  let  her  eyes  rest  on  the  valley. 

It  was  a  pretty  gulf  cleaving  the  prairie  for  a 
width  of  two  or  three  miles  and  winding  out  of 
sight  into  the  blue  distance.  There  was  visible  the 
shine  of  lakes  and  their  linking  streams.  Under 


26  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

the  amber  light  of  the  autumnal  sunrise  the  valley 
was  pricked  out  into  a  landscape  of  gold.  The 
bank  upon  which  they  stood  swept  away  to  the 
southeast  in  a  forest  crescent  wonderful  with  the 
variegated  leafage  of  the  searing  year.  Paling 
greens,  bright  yellows,  faint  oranges  mingled  with 
browns  and  buffs  and  the  brillant  wines  and  reds. 
Falling  away  from  their  feet  the  colourful  forest 
was  a  charming  Joseph's  coat,  but  in  the  spacious 
distance  its  mottled  glory  blent  into  the  russet- 
yellow  of  the  prairie. autumn. 

The  north  bank  rose  beyond,  walling  the  ravine 
in  a  billowy  rank  of  great,  rounded  hills  bald  as 
the  skull  of  the  golden  eagle  and  seamed  with  dark 
lines  of  wooded  gulches.  Here  and  there  along 
the  crests  hung  over  the  edges  of  the  great,  harvest 
blanket,  strips  of  wheat  fields  studded  with  their 
nuggets  of  brown  stooks.  In  the  blue  radiance 
above  drifted  a  fleet  of  soft  clouds  with  creamy 
breasts  and  fringes  of  amber  fire.  On  the  floor  of 
the  valley  lay  a  lake  spread  out  in  a  broad  silver 
ribbon  that  rose  to  the  skyline  for  miles  into  the 
west. 

"  You  beautiful  Qu'Appelle ! "  cried  the  girl 
softly.  "  We  love  you — Bobs  and  I." 

For  many  minutes  she  revelled  in  the  ecstasy  of 
gleaming  morning  and  golden  valley,  her  cheeks 
bitten  to  roses  by  the  tanging  wind-drift.  At 
length  she  granted  release  to  her  impatient  horse 
and  let  him  dash  down  into  the  trees.  Under  their 


THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD  27 

branches  she  drew  him  to  a  walk  and,  leaving  the 
selection  of  their  trail  to  the  petulant  Bobs,  aban- 
doned herself  to  the  alchemy  of  the  harvest  woods. 

Passing  slowly  through  the  depths  of  a  grove 
of  white-stemmed  poplars  they  ran  out  into  a  tiny 
glade.  Here  The  Willow,  a  pretty  brook,  dammed 
by  industrious  beavers,  gathered  itself  into  a  little 
pond  before  its  last  wild  rush  to  the  lake.  As 
they  cleared  the  trees  Bobs  pricked  up  his  ears  and 
quickened  his  step,  giving  a  low  whinny.  His 
rider  glanced  curiously  ahead,  surprised  to  see  a 
horseman  in  the  pool.  Her  face  changed  suddenly 
from  surprise  to  pleasure.  The  horse  was  sipping 
the  cool  water.  The  rider  was  Ned  Pullar. 

"  Mary ! "  he  cried  delightedly,  sending  his 
horse  through  the  stream.  "  This  is  my  lucky  day. 
Darkey  and  I  have  been  haunting  Willow  Glade 
for  an  hour  past  hoping  just  this,  but  never  dream- 
ing that  you  and  Bobs  would  really  show  up." 

"How  did  you  know  I  was  coming?"  de- 
manded the  girl  happily. 

"  I  did  not  know,"  was  the  reply.  "  I  only 
knew  this  to  be  one  of  your  favourite  haunts  on  a 
Sunday  morning  and  conceived  a  long  chance  of 
meeting  you  here.  It  was  necessary  to  have  a  per- 
sonal talk  with  you.  This  morning  I  determined 
to  see  you  before  the  day  was  gone.'* 

"Are  you  in  trouble,  Ned  ?  "  cried  the  girl  sud- 
denly, a  soberness  driving  the  pleasure  from  her 
face. 


28  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

"  Very  great  trouble,  Mary,"  said  Ned.  "  Do 
you  not  know  ?  " 

Deeply  he  searched  the  eyes  looking  into  his. 
He  could  tell  by  the  innocence,  the  solicitude  of 
them  that  they  had  not  learned  the  thing  he  feared. 
He  was  greatly  relieved. 

"  What  is  it,  Ned  ?  "  was  her  anxious  query. 
"  I  have  heard  of  no  trouble." 

"  Perhaps  it  is  only  a  cloud  over  the  sun," 
was  the  reply.  "  It  may  pass  by.  Indeed  you 
have  brightened  things  a  lot  for  me  already. 
Let  us  breathe  our  broncs  while  we  talk  it  all 
over." 

Slipping  from  his  saddle  he  assisted  her  to  dis- 
mount. Taking  charge  of  the  horses  he  secured 
them  to  adjacent  trees  and  followed  to  where  she 
had  seated  herself  on  a  gnarled  log  at  the  foot  of 
the  little  falls. 

"  I  have  a  little  surprise  for  you,"  said  he, 
throwing  himself  on  the  leaves  at  her  feet.  "  I 
am  not  returning  to  college  this  fall." 

Her  eyes  opened  wide,  expressing  a  mystified 
incredulity. 

"  Sad  but  true !  "  was  his  reiteration. 

"  But  your  year,  Ned !  It  is  your  final.  You 
must  finish/' 

"  Sheer  foolishness,  eh  ?  This  smashing  of  a 
final  year?  So  it  seemed  to  me  for  a  little.  Only 
a  little.  I  cannot  leave  Dad." 

At  the  words  he  averted  his  eyes. 


THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD  29 

She  studied  the  downcast  face,  an  expression  of 
pride  growing  in  her  eyes. 

"  You  understand,  I  am  sure,"  said  he  softly. 
"  It  has  been  worse  this  vacation  than  ever  before. 
Dad's  at  a  great  disadvantage  now  and  I  have  to 
watch  him  like  a  lynx.  Swale's  bar  is  a  powerful 
lodestone.  But  he  is  bracing  gamely.  He  has 
not  touched  the  stuff  for  three  weeks  and  if  I  stay 
with  him  now  I  believe  he'll  win  out.  Then  I'll 
not  lose  the  year  after  all.  A  steady  grind  at  the 
homestead  should  work  out  an  extra-mural  pass, 
and  I  could  pull  down  my  degree  with  the  rest  of 
you." 

"  You  will  be  missed,  Ned." 

He  looked  up  quickly  into  her  eyes.  They  were 
a  peculiar  mixture  of  sympathy  and  fun. 

"  Undoubtedly !  "  agreed  Ned  disconsolately, 
though  his  eyes  twinkled.  "  How  the  Registrar 
will  grieve  at  the  non-appearance  of  my  hitherto 
regular  fee.  And  Grimes,  sweet  janitor!  He 
will  drop  not  a  tear,  but  a  diabolic  wink  at  my 
sudden  demise." 

"  Mercenary  Registrar !  "  sighed  Mary.  "And 
unspeakably  happy  Grimes!  Doubtful  mourners, 
I  admit.  But  others  will  follow  the  two  chiefs. 
I  see  the  Rugby  Team  pacing  after  slowly  and 
aghast.  They  mourn  Captain  and  star  punter  at 
one  fell  stroke  or  rather  in  the  unavailable  person 
of  one  fellow,  Pullar.  Methinks  there  was  to 
have  been  a  great  International  Debate.  But 


30  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

now? — How  can  I  go  on  down  the  long  line? 
Behold  the  Winged  Seven,  favourites  for  the 
Hockey  Cup,  now,  alas,  the  Wingless  Six!  And 
tiie  Eight-oared  Crew  ? — Can  you  not  see  that  you 
will  be  missed  ever  so  little  ?  " 

Ned  looked  up  with  a  rueful  grin. 

"  Grave  losses  all,"  replied  Ned.  "  The  ironic 
heartlessness  of  the  small  Co-ed  notwithstanding. 
Varsity  will  gradually  recover  from  her  terrible 
handicap.  Infinitely  more  terrible  is  it  for  me. 
Calculate  the  unmaterialized  wisdom  of  four  hun- 
dred priceless  lectures.  But,  after  all — it  is  noth- 
ing." 

"  No-o  ?  "  commented  Mary  slyly  in  sceptical 
demur. 

Ned  glanced  into  the  brown  eyes  in  time  to  sur- 
prise a  smile  uniquely  pleasing  in  its  whimsical  de- 
light. Instantly  they  became  mockingly  sober. 

"  Mary !  "  said  he  seriously,  holding  her  gaze. 
"  Will  you  miss  me  ?  " 

The  girl's  eyes  wandered  suddenly  to  tree,  sky, 
brook,  finally  resting  on  a  log  at  their  feet. 

"  What  a  sudden  switch  from  general  to  par- 
ticular," said  she,  absorbed  apparently  in  the  task 
of  pecking  a  hole  in  the  bark  with  the  dainty  toe 
of  her  riding-boot. 

Laughing  quietly  Ned  proceeded. 

"  If  you  could  peep  into  my  mind,  Mary,  you 
would  find  a  seething  resentment  there.  And  all 
because  of  you.  Soon  you  will  be  rejoining  the 


THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD  31 

old  class.  There's  the  rub.  I  cannot  conceive  of 
Pellawa  without  you." 

"Indeed?" 

"  And  a  very  big  '  indeed/  "  aggrieved  Ned. 
"  To  think  that  Rooter  Combes  and  his  rah-rahs 
will  be  in  clover.  This  obsession  has  been  actively 
depressing  since  last  Thursday.  Perhaps  you  re- 
member riding  by  Sparrow's.  You  looked 
quaintly  desirable  in  that  chic,  brown  slicker " 

"  With  my  face  all  spattered  and  Bobs  a  mud 
tramp ! " 

"  I  did  not  see  Bobs  at  all,  just  a  chicily  hooded 
girl  with  peeping  curls  of  brown  hair,  flashing  eyes 
and  a  nod  adorably  imperious  but  very  welcome." 

"  I  should  not  have  recognized  you." 

"  But  you  did  and  at  that  particular  moment  the 
act  was  doubly  precious  to  me.  How  can  I  resign 
you,  Mary,  to  the  too  tender  solicitude  of  Combes 
and  those  dear  fellows  ?  " 

Mary  tipped  her  head  reflectively  while  she  read 
his  half-serious  eyes. 

"  Is  this  your  trouble,  Ned  ?  "  said  she  smiling 
frankly  down  at  him.  "  Do  you  mean  that  you 
will  miss  me — quite  a  little  ?  " 

"  Just  so.  Since  you  comprise  the  population 
of  Pellawa— for  me.  But " 

"  You  may  not  be  called  upon  to  forego  the  so- 
ciety of  this  so  immensely  necessary  person." 

Now  it  was  his  eyes  that  opened  wide. 

"  I  have  a  piece  of  big  news  for  you,"  continued 


32  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

Mary,  shaking  her  head  wisely  while  she  enjoyed 
his  surprise.  "  I,  too,  am  dropping  out.  No  Var- 
sity for  me  this  term.  You  see  me  to-day,  Ned,  a 
specially  permitted  schoolma'am.  Last  Thursday 
as  I  rode  by  Sparrow's  I  was  on  my  way  to 
sign  the  entangling  documents.  Bridges  are  all 
burned.  To-morrow  I  begin  teaching — where  do 
you  think  ?  " 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  In  the  school  of — The  Craggs.  I  shall  be 
your  very  close  neighbour.  Mary  McClure  is  not 
flitting  away  from  you.  Combes  and  his  tender- 
hearted fellows  should  worry  very  considerably,  I 
fancy." 

"  Mary,  Mary !  "  was  the  elated  cry.  "  I  am 
sorry  for  you  but  riotously  happy  for  myself." 

She  looked  down  upon  him  a  moment  with  eyes 
brimmingly  glad,  then  a  shadow  crept  into  them. 

"  I  am  spending  this  year  with  Mother  and 
Dad,"  she  said  simply. 

Looking  earnestly  at  her  he  caught  the  shine  of 
tears.  Stifling  the  gay  words  leaping  to  his  lips  he 
rose  and  stepping  to  her  drew  her  head  to  his 
breast. 

"  Mary,"  said  he  gently,  "  our  work  is  planned 
for  a  year  ahead.  Home  is  the  only  place  for  us 
just  now." 

"We'll  make  it  a  great  year,  Ned,"  was  the 
hopeful  reply.  "  When  I  was  a  little  girl,  every- 
thing good  for  Mother  and  Dad  was  described  as 


THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD  33 

'  bestest.'  This  is  to  be  the  '  bestest '  year  for  our 
loved  ones  that  they  have  ever  known.  Can  we 
make  it  so?  " 

"  You  are  only  a  little  girl  yet,"  said  Ned,  kiss- 
ing the  face  turned  up  to  him.  "And  this  is  to  be 
their  '  bestest '  year.  We  shall  see  to  that.  Now 
for  my  trouble,  the  thing  that  drove  me  out  to  find 
you.  These  last  moments  have  made  it  deepen 
rather  than  vanish.  On  Thursday  afternoon,  a 
short  time  before  I  saw  you,  I  had  an  adventure. 
Have  you  heard  of  it?  " 

"  Not  even  a  rumour,  Ned.  Mother  and  I  are 
not  as  intimate  with  Pellawa  life  as  we  should 
be." 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  not  heard,"  said  Ned  ear- 
nestly. "  There  was  an  encounter  in  the  pool- 
room. Your  father  was  involved." 

At  Ned's  words  a  fear  flashed  into  the  girl's 
eyes. 

"  Your  father  and  I  have  made  rather  slow 
progress  in  our  mutual  acquaintanceship.  We  got 
to  know  each  other  much  better  at  Sparrow's.  I 
cannot  say  the  event  has  helped  any.  We  are  now 
enemies  publicly  acknowledged.  At  least  your 
father  so  considers  me.  The  clash  was  sharp  and 
promises  serious  trouble  ahead  for  us.  It  will 
hamper  us  not  a  little  in  our  plans  of  the  last  few 
minutes." 

"  Ned ! "  she  cried  with  lips  a-tremble.  "  You 
did  not  fight?  Not  mat?  " 


34  THE  Y ALLEY  OF  GOLD 

He  looked  at  her,  deeply  troubled  by  the  white 
face  and  the  pain  in  her  glance.  She  was  looking 
at  the  scar  on  his  cheek.  He  thought  of  the  wager. 
A  staggering  regret  swept  over  him.  He  was 
about  to  tell  her  the  whole  story,  but  now?  No. 
She  should  not  know  all — just  yet.  Forcing  a  re- 
assuring smile  he  replied: 

"  No.  We  did  not  fight.  It  was  a  touch  and 
go  but  resulted  in  nothing  more  than  a  sharp  brush 
with  your  father's  gang.  That  scratch  is  from  the 
boot  of  Bill  Baird.  I  was  able  to  restrain  the  Val- 
ley Gang,  thanks  to  Easy  Murphy's  loyalty. 
Otherwise  the  worst  would  have  happened.  We 
did  not  fight  and  I  am  confident  I  can  give  you  my 
promise  that  we  never  shall." 

Immense  relief  filled  the  girl's  eyes. 

"  You  were  in  a  hard  place,"  said  she,  her  look 
of  strange  comprehension  searching  his  face. 
"  You  held  your  hand  because — because  of  our 
love.  I  know  it." 

Her  sure  intuition  astonished  him,  but  before  he 
could  speak  she  continued: 

"  There  is  startling  cause  for  cheer  in  all  this, 
Ned.  If  you  can  prevent  the  terrible  possibility  I 
am  thinking  of,  you  can  win  Dad." 

"  How  would  you  have  me  do  it,  Mary  ?  "  was 
his  abrupt  appeal. 

She  pondered  deeply,  her  eyes  growing  m  solici- 
tude as  the  moments  passed.  At  length  she  looked 
at  him  with  troubled  face,  shaking  her  head. 


THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD  35 

"  I  do  not  know,"  was  her  helpless  confession. 
"  How  would  you  win  him  ?  " 

"  The  only  way  is  to  play  the  man  with  him," 
was  the  slow  answer.  "  He  would  turn  over 
heaven  or  hell  to  break  me.  Obviously  I  must 
break  him." 

The  girl  shuddered  at  the  words.  Watching  the 
quivering  face  he  was  surprised  to  hear  her  say : 

"  I  know  there  is  no  other  way.  One  of  you 
must  conquer.  But  there  is  a  condition  I  want  to 
make.  You  will  be  right,  always,  Ned,  as  well  as 
irresistible.  I  know  you  will." 

"  I  shall  always  have  the  right  with  me.  I  have 
it  now,"  was  the  quick  reply.  "  I  expect  to  butt 
into  stone  walls  at  times,  but  we  shall  win  out. 
There  is  only  one  great,  lurking  dread.  Some- 
times I  fear  your  father  may  strike  at  me  through 
you,  we  mean  so  much  to  each  other." 

As  he  spoke  he  fancied  he  saw  in  her  eyes  the 
glimmer  of  a  haunting  fear.  But  it  vanished  so 
swiftly  he  doubted  he  had  ever  glimpsed  it.  The 
big  eyes  reading  his  were  heavy  with  grief.  With 
sudden  impulse  he  crushed  her  in  the  shelter  of  his 
great  arms. 

"  I  should  not  have  breathed  the  thought,"  said 
he  penitently.  "  Nothing  conceivable  can  ever 
strike  our  love,  Mary.  You  are  not  afraid  ?  " 

"  Not  of  that,"  was  the  reply  as  she  nestled  con- 
tentedly within  the  strength  of  him.  "  Many 
things  may  happen,  but  not  that.  Just  now  Fatheir 


36  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

is  obsessed  with  his  new  friendship.  It  is  a  thou- 
sand pities  that  the  friend  should  be  Chesley  Sykes. 
His  presence  in  Pellawa  is  an  ominous  mystery  to 
me.  So  far  he  has  deported  himself  with  desir- 
able aloofness.  May  he  continue  to  do  so.  He  is 
completely  outside  of  this  beautiful  moment.  Let 
us  forget  him." 

"  And  ride  away  together,"  suggested  Ned. 

"  I  have  an  hour  yet,"  calculated  Mary. 

"  We'll  spend  it  riding  No-trail  Gulch,"  tempted 
Ned. 

"  Let  us  away,"  laughed  the  girl  gaily.  "  For 
the  trail " 

"  Is  luring,"  completed  Ned,  leading  her  to  the 
horses. 

A  moment  later  they  clattered  over  the  gravel 
bed  of  the  brook  and  into  the  trees. 


Ill 

BOUQUETS 

THE  month  of  October  sped  swiftly  away 
in  one  long  attack  on  oceans  of  stocks 
amid  the  blue  blaze  of  cloudless  skies. 
The  threshers  were  having  a  run  of  "  great 
weather  "  as  the  blank  fields  and  the  piles  of  straw 
averred.  The  matter  of  the  McClure-Pullar 
wager  had  of  course  leaked  out  and  become  the 
one  thrilling  feature  of  the  annual  wind-up. 
Aside  from  the  two  gangs  there  was  a  keenly  in- 
terested and,  alas,  gaming  public.  The  sympathy 
of  the  plains  went  to  Ned  Pullar;  the  odds  to  Rob 
McClure.  Jack  Butte  had  become  an  inhuman 
sphinx.  Into  Jack's  elevator  had  come  the  steady 
stream  of  grain  from  the  contending  mills  but  to 
no  one  had  he  divulged  the  respective  records. 
No  system  of  tapping  his  books  had  yet  succeeded. 
This  was  due  to  the  fact  that  Jack  Butte  was  an 
irreproachable  and  resourceful  stakeholder.  As 
rare  evidence  of  his  unique  qualifications  he  had 
sworn  the  secrecy  of  every  farmer  threshed  by 
the  rivals.  It  was  a  tribute  to  the  sporting  public 
that  with  but  three  days  to  run  only  one  man 
knew  of  the  interesting  situation. 

37 


38  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

The  Valley  Outfit  was  resting.  Ned  Pullar  was 
oiling-up  and  cleaning  his  engine  during  the  din- 
ner interim.  Every  bit  of  brass  about  her  was 
gleaming  gold  while  the  friction  surfaces  shone 
clean  like  new  silver.  The  "  Old  Lady  "  had  es- 
tablished a  personal  reputation  in  the  Valley  as  a 
"  mighty  good  engine,"  and  her  engineer  was 
justly  proud  of  her.  To  Ned  she  had  become  a 
living  thing.  Mounting  on  the  footboard  he 
grasped  the  throttle.  During  the  pounding  grind 
of  the  past  month  he  had  formed  the  habit  of  com- 
muning with  this  thing  of  power  that  he  con- 
trolled with  so  masterful  a  hand.  As  his  eyes  read 
gauge  and  water-glass  with  satisfaction  he  spoke 
to  the  engine,  addressing  her  not  by  word  of  mouth 
but  with  the  voice  of  his  reflection. 

"  Just  a  couple  of  days  more  and  we'll  ease  up 
on  you,  old  girl.  You've  been  a  game  old  Pal  and 
you'll  not  throw  me  down  now." 

The  Old  Lady  made  violent  protest  at  even  the 
hint  of  such  infidelity  by  throwing  a  hissing  cloud 
of  steam  from  her  exhaust.  Ned  smiled,  gripping 
the  throttle  with  a  fond  clutch. 

"  Same  old  ready  bird !  "  said  he.  "  Eager  to 
get  at  it,  are  you?  Just  five  minutes,  Old  Lady, 
and  we'll  set  you  purring  again." 

With  the  flames  roaring  through  her  flues  the 
thing  of  steel  waited  restively  for  the  thing  of  will 
that  held  her  levers  in  sinewy  grasp. 

At  the  separator  the  men  resting  for  a  few  min- 


BOUQUETS  39 

utes  upon  the  straw  were  looking  up  into  the  face 
of  Andy  Bissett,  the  separator  man,  listening  to 
him  as  he  worked  away  with  wire  prod  and  oil 
can. 

"  I  tell  you,  lads,  we  are  up  against  a  stiffer 
proposition  than  any  of  you  fellows  think.  Ned's 
out  for  blood.  He  doesn't  care  a  whiff  for  that 
wager  Butte  holds.  But  he's  got  to  win  it." 

"  Hold  on,  Andy ! "  cried  Lawrie,  the  big  feeder. 
"  You've  got  me  up  in  the  air.  I  thought  the 
Valley  Outfit  was  after  McClure's  long  green." 

"  So  they  be,"  agreed  Dad  Blackford  belliger- 
ently. "  And  Ned,  'e's  a-goin'  to  get  hit." 

But  Andy  shook  his  head. 

"  You  don't  get  me,"  said  he,  pausing  in  his 
work.  "And  I  can't  explain  for  I'm  as  much  at  sea 
as  the  rest  of  you.  But  we've  got  to  win  this  little 
bet.  If  we  put  it  over  McClure  it  will  only  be  by  a 
thousand  or  two.  Ned  says  he  won't  push  the 
Outfit  any  harder,  but  I've  taken  the  liberty  to  put 
on  the  squeeze  play  for  a  couple  of  days.  Grant's 
putting  on  two  extra  stook  wagons  and  a  couple  of 
men.  Here  they  come  now.  We're  going  to  slam 
through  a  couple  of  thousand  above  the  regular. 
If  Grant  can  bung  this  old  fanning  mill  I  don't 
know  it." 

The  men  leaped  to  their  feet,  for  the  extra 
wagons  had  rattled  up.  There  was  a  fresh  deter- 
mination in  every  face.  They  had  been  working 
at  high  pressure  for  the  long  run,  but  they  were 


40  THE  YALLEY  OF  GOLD 

right  on  their  toes  in  the  face  of  the  challenge. 
Each  man  went  to  his  place  addressing  himself  to 
the  struggle  in  the  workmanlike  fashion  of  the 
Valley  Outfit.  Jean  Benoit,  the  little  French 
bagger,  plucked  the  tankman's  sleeve  as  the  group 
broke  up. 

"What  Ned  hole  on  hees  cheek?"  questioned 
the  Frenchman  excitedly. 

Easy  Murphy  looked  at  him  a  moment  deeply 
puzzled.  Suddenly  light  broke. 

"  Begobs,  'tis  the  tongue  in  his  chake  yer  dappy 
about.  Why,  sez  you,  does  not  the  sly  divil  be 
af  thur-r  showin'  the  hand  uv  him  ?  Shure  Ned's 
not  wearin'  his  heart  on  his  lapel,  me  frind  from 
Montmorenci." 

Jean  searched  the  Irishman's  face  as  it  went 
through  the  contortion  of  an  excessively  wise  and 
secretive  wink. 

"  Mon  Gar !  "  exclaimed  the  confused  fellow. 
"  De  boss  wan  woodhead !  Why  he  de  debble  not 
squeal  ?  Eef  we  know,  den  lak  wan  blankety  busy 
bee  we  work  de  whole  gang.  Eef  we  not  know, 
Ned  he  ged  him  on  de  neck.'' 

"  You're  right,  Jean !  "  was  the  emphatic  pro- 
nouncement. "  And  yit  Ned  wull  not  be  afthurr 
tellin'  his  saycrits  till  the  gintle  lugs  uv  the  Valley 
Gang.  Can't  ye  see  whut's  eggin'  him  on?  'Tis 
not  the  wee  wager.  'Tis  a  man."  Tapping  the 
Frenchman  wisely  on  the  breast  he  whispered 
tragically,  "  The  boss  is  thrailin'  a  varmit  be  the 


BOUQUETS  41 

cognomin  uv  Robbie  McClure  and  he'll  be 
afthurr  gittin'  his  man  dead  or  aloive.  Put  that 
intill  the  poipe  uv  ye  and  smoke  ut,  not  forgettin' 
till  wur-rk  like in  the  manetoime.  Fare- 
well!" 

Jean  did  not  understand  quite  all  but  he  turned 
to  the  bagger  with  fierce  resolution.  As  he 
knocked  the  filling  bag  with  his  knee  he  caught 
sight  of  McClure's  smoke  through  the  cloud  of 
dust  enveloping  him.  His  dark  eyes  shone. 

"  We  lick  heem !  We  lick  heem !  "  was  his  low 
soliloquy.  Then  he  added  joyously  as  he  gave 
the  bag  a  vicious  jab,  "  Ha!  Eet  will  be  good! " 

The  thought  energized  him  mightily.  Deftly 
settling  the  bag  and  closing  it  he  seized  it  adroitly 
and  by  united  force  of  arms,  knees  and  back  hurled 
it  up  into  the  wagon,  remarking  ferociously: 

"  So  we  give  McClure  the  beeg  fall.  We  give 
him  beeg  scare  too,  eh?  And  mebbe  leetle  licking 
also." 

Smiling  gleefully  he  settled  to  the  grind. 

Easy  Murphy  was  absorbed  in  a  brown  study  as 
he  climbed  up  on  his  water  tank  and  started  his 
horses  over  the  stubble.  Suddenly  he  came  out  of 
the  maze  of  his  cogitations  and  called  fiercely  at 
his  horses. 

"Arrah,  me  beauties,  shake  the  legs  uv  ye  or 
Til  be  afthurr  pokin*  yer  rumps  wid  me  number 
tins." 

The  horses  took  the  hint  and  broke  into  a  lum- 


42  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

bering  trot.  They  were  making  a  trip  to  the 
water-hole  and  at  the  moment  were  passing 
through  a  field  of  oats  into  which  they  would  soon 
be  hauling  the  Outfit.  As  he  drove  through  the 
wire  gate  out  into  the  road-allowance  he  saw  a 
buckboard  pull  up  at  the  fence  some  distance 
away.  The  sole  occupant  dropped  out  of  the  ve- 
hicle and  passing  through  the  strands  of  wire 
walked  for  a  considerable  distance  into  the  stocks. 
Pausing  for  a  moment  the  stranger  knelt  down 
beside  a  stook,  then  rising  walked  on  to  another, 
where  he  knelt  again.  His  actions  excited  a  keen 
•curiosity  in  his  observer. 

"  Begobs,  me  hearty ! "  exclaimed  Easy. 
'"  Ye' re  not  pickin'  pansies  in  an  oat-field.  Nathur 
are  ye  adorin'  the  Almighty,  for  ye're  almighty 
loike  Snoopy  Bill  Baird,  head  f  oozler  of  McClure's 
bums.  I'll  hail  yuh,  Bill,  till  I  find  out  yer 
tack." 

He  was  about  to  yell  when  he  checked  himself, 
muttering: 

"  Howld  yer  jaw,  ye  owld  fool." 

The  other  had  noticed  his  approach  and  loitered 
a  few  minutes  shelling  the  grain,  interested  evi- 
dently in  the  yield.  This  matter  duly  settled,  he 
climbed  back  through  the  fence  and  reentering 
the  buckboard  drove  slowly  along  toward  the  tank. 
It  was  Snoopy  Bill  all  right.  As  they  drew  abreast 
Easy  pulled  up  his  horses.  A  roguish  twinkle 
played  in  his  eyes  as  he  said: 


BOUQUETS  43 

"  'Tis  a  foine  day  wur-r  havin',  Bill.  A  pleas- 
ant day  indade  for  pluckin'  swate  bokays." 

"  Great  day !  Great  day !  Murphy !  "  was  the 
jocular  reply. 

"  Bin  pickin'  pansies  the  day/'  continued  Easy 
naively,  curious  to  discover  what  he  could. 

Snoopy  Bill  looked  at  him  sharply.  But  no 
guile  could  he  discover  in  the  face  grinning  down 
at  him. 

"  No  such  luck,  Murphy,"  said  he  casually.  "  I 
was  taking  a  squint  at  the  yield.  Pretty  dum 
good,  eh  ?  " 

"  And  it's  the  yield  ye're  afthurr  meddlin'  with 
and  not  the  swate  and  gowlden  daisies.  I  saw  yuh 
pokin'  around  among  the  stocks  as  I  pulled 
through  the  gate." 

The  smile  on  Snoopy  Bill's  face  ceased  to 
deepen  while  the  whole  man  became  suddenly 
alert.  Easy  Murphy  caught  the  change. 

"  Ye're  Snoopy  Bill,  shure  enough,"  blurted  he. 
"  And  I'll  lay  ye  a  tin-spot  ye  were  up  to  no  godly 
devowshuns  kneeling  in  the  muck  by  the  stocks. 
Ye're  not  prominint  for  religion,  are  ye,  Snoopy?" 

Snoopy  Bill's  tone  was  galling  to  Easy's  in- 
flammable spirit  as  he  replied  imperturbably : 

"  Leaving  the  matter  of  the  *  swate  daisies ' 
aside,  Murphy.  I  was  praying  for  you,  honest. 
I  was  putting  in  a  lick  for  the  Valley  Gang  asking 
the  good  Lord  to  have  a  look  to  Pullar's  Outfit 
when  we  clean  them  up." 


44  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

Easy's  jaw  set,  a  sign  that  an  ultimatum  was 
imminent. 

"Ye  blatherin'  spalpeen!"  he  cried,  his  hands 
opening  and  shutting  convulsively.  "  I'll  be 
afthurr  spilin'  yer  sassy  mug  if  ye  open  it 
agin." 

Snoopy  Bill  opened  his  "  mug  "  with  commend- 
able lack  of  hesitation.  An  impudent  drawl 
pointedly  accentuated  did  not  tend  to  reduce 
Easy's  evident  irritation. 

"  Talking  about  mugs,  Murphy,"  said  he  con- 
fidentially, "  it  seems  to  me  we  have  some  curious 
and  fine  large  samples  hereabouts  gopping  wide 
open  for  free  inspection." 

The  sardonic  grin  that  accompanied  the  casual 
observation  touched  off  a  whole  magazine  of  high 
explosive.  Easy's  mouth  was  a  generously  ample 
specimen  and  his  posture  of  attention  was  to  sit 
with  it  ajar.  The  amplitude  of  that  particular 
area  of  his  facial  map  was  a  source  of  constant 
regret.  Hence  the  remark  rankled. 

"  Ye've  said  it ! "  was  his  angry  utterance  as  he 
threw  down  the  lines.  With  a  leap  he  was  off  the 
tank.  They  dropped  to  the  road  together,  but 
Snoopy  Bill  having  a  shorter  descent  recovered 
first  and  rushing  at  his  antagonist  swung  swiftly 
and  struck,  planting  a  powerful  blow  on  the  chest,, 
hurling  the  other  against  the  tank.  He  followed 
quickly  for  the  head  with  his  other  hand  but 
Easy's  native  wit  acted  with  surprising  speed  and 


BOUQUETS  45 

he  ducked.  Snoopy  Bill's  closed  fist  rapped  on  the 
hard  surface  of  the  tank,  skinning  the  knuckles. 

"  Thry  agin !  "  yelled  the  Irishman  mockingly, 
with  a  vicious  thrust  into  his  enemy's  ribs.  The 
blow  staggered  his  opponent.  Swiftly  he  followed 
it  with  a  jolting  up-cut,  yelling  again,  "  Take  wan 
yersilf  and  be  hanged!  " 

The  blow  made  Snoopy  Bill's  head  bob  back 
and  he  dropped  to  his  knees.  Easy  stood  over 
him  furiously  triumphant.  Stooping  he  called  into 
the  other's  ear: 

"  Git  busy  at  yer  devowshuns,  me  hearty.  Put 
in  a  wur-rd  for  McClure  and  his  divils." 

With  a  weak  smile  Snoopy  Bill  staggered  to  his 
feet. 

"  You  are  a  hard  hitter,  Murphy,"  said  he 
dazedly. 

Picking  his  late  antagonist  up  bodily  Easy 
bundled  him  into  his  buckboard  and  slapping  the 
horse  smartly  on  the  hip  sent  him  off  at  a  trot. 
Placing  his  hands  to  his  mouth  the  tankman 
shouted : 

"If  ye  want  anny  more  forgitmenots  come 
back  the  morrow,  the  garden's  full." 

With  this  parting  shot  he  climbed  up  on  his  tank 
and  resumed  his  trip  to  the  water-hole. 


IV 
THE  MAN,  ROB  McCLURE 

ROB   McCLURE   sat   before   his   roll-top 
desk,  his  head  resting  upon  his  hands.    He 
was   perturbed.      Occasionally    his    head 
would  sink  into  a  posture  of  dejection.    In  a  mo- 
ment he  would  straighten,  shrug  his  shoulders  and 
look  out  of  the  window,  his  face  swept  by  the 
irony  of  an  uncouth  smile. 

He  was  a  man  of  powerful  physique,  large  of 
frame,  possessor  of  a  presence  singularly  impress- 
ive. He  was  conscious  of  his  power.  An  habitual, 
impatient  shrug  revealed  a  restive  spirit  deeply  an- 
tagonistic to  baffling  elements.  A  relentless,  implac- 
able expression  inwrought  the  face  that  exhibited 
even  in  the  act  of  smiling  the  dominance  of  an 
over-riding  will.  There  was  something  cruel  in 
the  hard  lines  about  the  mouth,  while  the  deep 
little  wrinkles  about  the  eyes  more  than  hinted 
brutal  cunning.  One  felt  that  given  sufficient 
pressure  Rob  McClure  was  capable  of  the  unspeak- 
able. There  were,  however,  relieving  features  to 
the  hard  visage,  most  prominent  of  all  a  high,  ex- 
pansive brow  and  great,  volcanic  eyes. 

46 


THE  MAN,  BOB  McCLURE  47 

Looking  out  of  the  window  his  eyes  fell  on  the 
yellow  stretches  of  stubble,-empty  now  save  for  the 
huge  piles  of  straw  thrown  up  by  the  blower.  In 
the  west  the  plain  was  gulfed  by  the  blue  depths 
of  The  Qu'Appelle  Valley.  His  glance  swept  over 
the  autumn  landscape  all  unseeing,  for  his  gaze 
was  fixed  on  two  streams  of  distant  smoke  that 
rose  for  a  little  in  straight  columns,  then  floated 
off  in  long  parallel  lines  to  the  west.  Clenching 
his  fist  he  brought  it  down  on  the  desk. 

"  I've  got  him  nailed ! "  he  breathed  fiercely, 
smiling  his  strange  smile. 

Then  his  confidence  seemed  to  shake.  The  two 
lines  of  smoke  were  streaming  over  the  fields 
evenly  abreast. 

"  Pullar's  a  silent  devil,"  he  whispered  darkly. 

"  He  is  deep — deep  as ,  and  he  cleans  up 

a  pile  of  stuff." 

He  meditated  for  a  little  then  added  decisively: 

"  But  I've  got  him  nailed  tight." 

The  irresolution  disappeared  and  the  cruel 
smile  stole  out  again. 

"  If  he  should  win,"  was  the  jocular  reflection. 
"  We'll  take  a  look  at  the  little  game  proposed  by 
Reddy  Sykes.  Reddy  has  a  way — a  fetching 
way."  The  name  brought  a  certain  merriness  to 
his  face.  The  humour  was  not  attractive. 

With  a  satisfied  shrug  he  rocked  back  in  his 
chair.  As  he  did  so  his  eyes  rested  on  a  photo- 
graph above  his  desk.  Down  upon  him  gazed  two 

, 


48  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

beautiful  faces.  Instantly  a  tender  light  softened 
the  hard  features.  His  lips  moved,  shaping  in- 
voluntarily the  names: 

"Helen!    Mary!" 

The  picture  held  his  searching  gaze  until  the 
sound  of  approaching  footsteps  broke  the  spell. 
At  the  sound  the  tender  light  vanished  and  a  con- 
flict surged  over  his  face.  Gradually  his  jaw  set 
and  the  steel  of  the  unyielding  will  revealed  itself. 
The  door  opened  quietly  and  in  a  moment  a  hand 
rested  gently  on  his  head.  The  voice  that  fell  on 
his  ear  was  sympathetic  and  affectionate.  Mary 
had  broken  into  his  sanctum. 

"  Why,  Daddy,"  she  cried,  "  you  are  looking 
very  serious.  Are  you  troubled  about  some- 
thing?" 

The  very  solicitude  of  the  voice  seemed  to  chafe 
him. 

"  No,"  he  exclaimed  abruptly. 

Nothing  daunted  she  fondled  his  hair. 

"  Is  the  mill  not  running  well,  Daddy  ?  " 

The  appeal  in  the  voice  caused  a  relenting  of  his 
face  but  his  tone  was  forbidding  as  he  replied: 

"  Yes.  She's  running  along  fine.  I  must  go  out 
to  her  right  away." 

Submitting  brusquely  to  her  kiss  he  rose  and 
snapping  the  roll-top  shut  took  his  departure. 

Mary  McClure  sat  down  in  the  vacated  chair, 
resting  her  head  on  her  hands  as  her  father  had 
done. 


THE  MAN,  BOB  McCLUEE  49 

"  Poor  Daddy !  "  she  murmured.  "  You  are  so 
busy,  so  preoccupied." 

There  was  a  trace  of  pain  in  the  voice,  a  great 
wistfulness  in  the  eyes.  Once  again  she  was  con- 
fronted with  the  tragedy  of  affection  unre- 
quited. 

Looking  at  the  father  one  would  expect  in  his 
daughter  the  robust,  ample  type.  But  she  was 
small  and  fragile,  a  delicate  bloom  of  young 
womanhood.  Out  of  the  bright  face  looked  lus- 
trous brown  eyes,  a  seriousness  lying  in  their  play- 
ful depths.  In  appearance  only  was  she  fragile, 
for  the  small  form  was  well  compacted,  lithe  and 
wiry,  capable  of  really  great  endurance.  She  was 
more  than  equal  to  exhausting  rides  along  the 
ravine  and  the  trails  of  the  upper  country.  Sitting 
by  the  desk  she  was  a  diminutive,  disconsolate 
figure.  She  had  drooped  into  a  pensiveness  that  of 
late  visited  her  all  too  frequently.  Nose  and  chin 
had  the  dainty  grace  of  the  spirituelle  and  such 
was  Mary  McClure.  Yet  was  she  human,  fired 
with  an  intense  passion  for  people.  A  quick,  light 
glance  of  her  eyes  or  the  flash  of  her  smile  threw 
the  spell  that  was  irresistible.  Life  opened  to  her 
on  all  sides.  The  girl  was  fortunate  in  her  mother. 
The  glory  of  a  great  affection  enveloped  her.  In 
the  mother  appeared  the  culture  of  Old  Varsity, 
giving  to  the  McClure  home  a  distinguishing  at- 
mosphere not  often  found  on  a  Western  farm. 
Helen  McClure  was  a  fine  companion  for  the  vi- 


60  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

vacious  girl,  and  the  two  enjoyed  a  delightful 
camaraderie. 

In  her  father  Mary  was  presented  with  the  most 
cruel  enigma.  Here  lay  the  secret  of  the  solemn- 
ness  that  so  often  filled  her  eyes.  By  him  all  af- 
fectionate approach  was  resented.  He  seemed  de- 
liberately striving  to  quench  her  natural  attach- 
ment. But  Mary's  affection  knew  no  repulse.  Pa- 
tiently she  pressed  the  attack,  intent  on  destroying 
the  barrier  he  would  insist  on  building  between 
them.  At  times  she  fancied  a  relenting  had  re- 
warded her  efforts. 

Rising,  she  walked  to  the  window  and  looked  out 
pensively  upon  the  autumn  fields.  Her  heart  was 
conscious  of  a  dearth  as  great  as  that  of  the  bar- 
ren stubble.  Her  lips  trembled  as  she  whispered 
musingly: 

"  Daddy  doesn't  seem  to  want  my  love.  Why  is 
he  so  busy — so — so  unfriendly?  So  buried  from 
us  in  a  hundred  cares  ?  " 

As  she  pondered  she  shuddered,  for  she  remem- 
bered times  when  he  was  well-nigh  brutal.  Then 
the  fetid  odour  flowed  from  his  breath.  Rapt  in 
the  poignant  moment  her  face  drew  into  sad  lines 
and  a  mist  stole  over  her  eyes,  blurring  the  autumn 
vision. 

McClure  had  made  all  haste  and  drew  near  his 
machine.  As  he  approached  the  engine  slowed  up 
and  stopped  and  the  pitchers,  jabbing  their  forks 
into  the  sheaves,  lay  down  on  the  loads.  Urging 


THE  MAN,  BOB  McCLUEB  61 

his  horse  to  great  speed  he  rode  up  to  the  machine. 
A  lively  altercation  was  in  progress.  A  knot  of 
excited  men  were  gathered  about  Snoopy  Bill 
Baird  and  Sid  Smithers,  the  farmer.  Smithers' 
voice  rose  high  in  angry  tones. 

"  She  stops  right  now,"  he  cried  vehemently. 
"  And  you  pull  your  Outfit  off  my  farm." 

Throwing  down  the  lines  McClure  strode  in 
among  the  men.  His  heavy  voice  rose  above  the 
hubbub. 

"  What's  the  kick?  "  was  his  demand. 

"  Smithers  is  trying  to  put  a  crimp  in  this  job," 
replied  Snoopy  Bill.  "  He's  ordered  the  mill  off  the 
farm.  He  contends  we're  throwing  over  his  grain." 

Smithers  interposed  warmly. 

"And  you  are  doing  it,"  said  he  wrath  fully. 
"  It's  a  cussed  shame.  I  can  prove  it.  Come 
back  to  the  straw  pile." 

He  promptly  led  the  way  and  the  crowd  moved 
back  quickly  to  the  blower.  Reaching  into  the 
straw  pile  Smithers  drew  out  a  coa.1  shovel.  His 
voice  was  indignant  as  he  said: 

"  Here's  what  I  caught  in  five  minutes  at  the 
mouth  of  that  blower." 

The  men  crowded  round.  Cleaning  the  straws 
away  he  disclosed  a  layer  of  plump  yellow  grains 
covering  the  bottom  of  the  shovel.  As  the  sight 
met  his  eye  McClure  gave  an  involuntary  start  and 
his  face  grew  dark.  His  voice  was  mollifying, 
however,  when  he  spoke. 


52  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

"  That  looks  pretty  bad,  Smithers,"  said  he 
quietly.  "  But  you  just  happened  to  catch  a  shoal 
of  grain  thrown  over  on  a  bunch  of  straw.  I'll  bet 
you  ten  to  one  we  haven't  thrown  over  five  bushels 
in  the  last  three  days." 

But  Smithers  stood  firm. 

"  You  can't  pull  the  wool  here,  McClure,"  was 
the  menacing  retort.  "  There  is  a  heap  of  my 
stuff  going  over  and  you  quit.  Easy  Murphy  gave 
me  a  line  on  Grant's  yield  and  he's  beating  me  bad. 
My  crop's  as  good  as  Grant's  and  you  know  it. 
Haul  your  Outfit  off  my  farm." 

Smithers  was  determined.  For  a  moment  Mc- 
Clure was  silent.  Then  he  spoke  in  an  appeasing 
tone. 

"  I  don't  want  to  quit  this  job  right  now,"  said 
he.  "  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do.  Let  me  finish  this 
run  in  my  own  way  and  if  your  yield  doesn't  equal 
Grant's  I'll  make  up  the  shortage  and  not  charge 
you  a  sou  for  your  threshing.  Is  that  square?  " 

Smithers  turned  the  matter  over  deliberately. 

"  Make  it  law,"  said  he  shrewdly,  "  and  I'll  hook 
up  with  you." 

"  Agreed !  "  was  the  quick  response.  "  I'll  sign 
the  papers  to-night.  Meet  me  at  Reddy  Sykes'  at 
ten  and  we'll  put  it  through." 

"  Go  ahead  on  that  condition,"  said  Smithers, 
climbing  into  his  wagon. 

Quickly  the  men  were  in  their  places  and  the 
machine  went  roaring  into  the  twilight.  As  Me- 


THE  MAN,  BOB  McCLUEE  53 

Clure  stood  by  the  separator  he  signalled  to 
Snoopy  Bill. 

"  Let  her  rip,  Bill,"  was  his  shout.  "  Crowd 
through  a  couple  of  thousand  extra  before  to-mor- 
row night." 

Snoopy  Bill  passed  the  word  and  the  engineer 
opened  the  throttle.  The  gang  responded  with  a 
will  and  soon  a  great  stream  of  straw  was  gush- 
ing from  the  blower. 

At  that  moment  Mary  McClure  was  standing 
up  in  her  stirrups  with  eyes  fixed  intently  on  a  spur 
of  the  north  bank  of  the  Valley.  As  she  watched, 
a  yodling  scream  came  over  the  rounded  hilltops. 
She  smiled  delightedly.  On  the  tip  of  the  lofty 
spur  she  caught  sight  of  a  red  flash  that  she  knew 
instantly  as  the  shining  coat  of  a  certain  bay 
broncho. 

"  It  is  Flash  with  Margaret  up ! "  was  the 
pleased  exclamation.  "  I  believe  she  wants  me." 

Forming  a  horn  with  her  hands  she  called  back 
in  the  cry  of  the  hills.  The  rider  on  the  spur 
waved  her  gauntlet  in  reply,  beckoning  to  the  rider 
in  the  Valley.  Instantly  Mary  turned  Bobs  into 
the  trees,  sending  him  up  a  steep  bridle  path  to  the 
left.  In  a  few  minutes  the  girls  were  together  and 
they  set  out  through  the  stubble  to  where  the  Val- 
ley Gang  was  finishing  the  wheat. 

"We  are  just  in  time  to  see  the  move,"  said 
Margaret.  "  For  you,  of  course,  the  engineer  is 


54  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

the  whole  gang.  You  will  be  able  to  see  Ned  in 
action." 

"  And  you  will  be  absorbed  in  the  rest  of  the 
gang,  that  is  in  the  antics  of  the  separator  man," 
countered  Mary. 

"  At  present,"  laughed  Margaret,  "  I  am  going 
to  make  a  raid  on  your  preserves  and  talk  to  Ned." 

She  rode  up  to  the  engine. 

At  that  moment  there  was  a  boisterously  gal- 
lant salute  from  the  gang,  accompanied  by  a  vigor- 
ous waving  of  caps  and  the  shrill  scream  of  the 
engine.  The  girls  acknowledged  the  reception  by 
a  gay  flourish  of  gauntlets. 

"  We  are  going  to  time  the  move,  Ned," 
shouted  Margaret  above  the  roar  of  the  engine, 
showing  him  her  watch.  "  Let  us  see  what  the 
Valley  Outfit  can  do." 

Drawing  his  watch  from  his  pocket  Ned  blew 
the  whistle,  promptly  gaining  the  attention  of  the 
whole  gang.  Waving  his  hand  toward  the  site  of 
the  new  setting,  he  lifted  high  his  watch  and 
pointed  to  Margaret.  With  a  ringing  cheer  they 
accepted  the  challenge  and  addressed  themselves  to 
the  race  against  time.  One  of  the  feats  of  a  crack 
outfit  is  the  swift  move  to  a  new  setting  without 
mishap  or  confusion. 

Already  the  last  stock  teams  have  pulled  away 
from  the  separator  and  are  careering  in  wild  race 
to  the  adjacent  field.  With  the  tossing  in  of  the 
final  shovelful  of  chaff  the  separator  stands  clean 


THE  MAN,  BOB  McCLURB  55 

and  naked  above  the  stubble.  As  the  last  bit  of 
wheat  dribbles  into  the  bag  Ned  signals  the  stop 
and  Margaret  lifts  her  watch  aloft. 

"  It  is  up  to  the  Valley  crew  now,"  comes  the 
silvery  challenge,  and  the  boys  respond  with  a 
merry  shout  and  the  address  that  marks  the  dis- 
cipline of  the  gang. 

As  the  fly-wheel  slows  up  the  pitchers  deftly 
throw  the  belt,  roll  it  up  and  hang  it  in  place.  At 
the  same  time  the  carriers  are  lowered  and  secured 
and  the  two  waiting  grain-teams  hooked  to  the 
separator.  Leaning  well  on  the  lines  the  drivers 
give  the  word.  With  a  sharp  gee  and  a  steady 
pull  they  haul  the  mill  up  on  the  stubble  and  head 
in  a  curved  line  for  the  site  of  the  new  setting  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  away.  There  a  space  has  been 
already  cleared  and  a  circle  of  loaded  stook- 
wagons  is  beginning  to  form,  awaiting  the  arrival 
of  the  machine. 

The  feat  par  excellence  of  all  the  teaming  about 
a  threshing  mill  is  that  of  pulling  the  engine  out 
of  the  holes  into  which  she  has  settled  and  over 
the  intervening  stubble.  Usually  two  teams  are 
detailed  to  this  duty,  but  here  the  big  tank  team  is 
sufficient.  At  the  drop  of  the  belt  Easy  Murphy 
hitched  the  grays.  The  two  big  beasts  stand  ex- 
pectant. Seizing  the  lines  Easy  gives  the  inspira- 
tion of  his  invigorating  brogue.  Thrusting  their 
great  shoulders  at  the  collars  the  team  leans  stead- 
ily forward.  Straining  with  their  mighty  muscles 


66  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

they  sink  their  toes  deep  into  the  turf.  The  traces 
stretch  into  tense,  vibrating  thongs.  Hawing 
sharply  the  real  pull  commences.  The  mass  be- 
gins to  move.  Swaying  slightly  as  his  horses' 
heads  go  down,  Easy  heartens  them. 

"  Stiddy  now,  me  beauties,  and  aisy  ut  is  or  the 
stubble  wull  be  afthurr  ticklin'  the  bellies  uv  ye." 

Suddenly  the  wheels  rise  out  of  the  holes  and 
the  heavy  mass  rolls  along. 

"  Aye,  'tis  an  aisy  waltz  f  er  yez,  me  bantams !  " 
crows  the  tankman  as  the  big  team  swings  through 
the  soft  muck  with  the  weighty  Old  Lady  in  tow. 
At  precisely  the  same  instant  the  separator  has 
made  its  start.  Glancing  at  her  watch  Margaret 
is  surprised  to  observe  that  barely  a  minute  has 
elapsed. 

Arriving  at  the  cleared  area  the  separator,  un- 
der the  guidance  of  Andy  Bissett,  circles  to  the 
east,  coming  up  to  position  in  the  teeth  of  the  wind. 
The  engine  takes  a  curve  to  the  west,  swinging 
east  to  meet  it.  With  the  separator  in  place  and 
blocked,  every  man  springs  to  his  task.  Carriers 
are  swung  into  proper  elevation,  feeder  and  band- 
cutter's  stands  dropped  and  the  belt  run  out  to  the 
engine. 

Ned  stands  on  the  rear  of  his  engine  with  eye 
sighting  along  the  fly-wheel.  Now  is  the  critical 
moment.  An  inch  too  much  to  right  or  left  means 
the  loss  of  minutes. 

"  Gee   a   little ! "    comes   the    crisp   command. 


THE  MAN,  BOB  McCLURE  67 

"  Steady  ahead !  Let  her  swing  to  gee !  Easy 
now!  Hold!" 

At  the  final  order  Easy  Murphy  brings  his 
horses  to  a  dead  stop.  Quickly  the  belt  is  slipped 
on  and  taunted.  Every  man  stands  in  his  place 
poised  for  work.  Two  short  shrieks  of  the  siren 
and  the  whole  scene  leaps  into  animation.  Vol- 
umes of  smoke  belch  from  the  funnel,  the  big  belt 
speeds  flapping  along  to  the  separator,  starting  the 
whirring  of  a  maze  of  lesser  belts  and  the  spin- 
ning of  countless  pulleys.  In  a  moment  the  cyl- 
inder is  devouring  an  endless  flood  of  sheaves. 
From  the  side  of  the  mill  the  oats  gush  out  while 
the  straw  rolls  up  over  the  carriers  in  a  golden 
stream. 

The  girls  ride  up  to  the  engine,  admiration  in 
their  eyes. 

"  What  time  did  we  kill  ?  "  inquired  Ned,  smil- 
ing through  his  layers  of  grease. 

"  You  made  time,"  corrected  Mary,  flashing  a 
bright  smile  down  upon  him.  "  That  was  won- 
derful work,  quite  worthy  of  the  Valley  Out- 
fit." 

"  Time,"  said  Margaret  with  official  dignity,  "  is 
the  surprising  record  of  eight  minutes  and  twenty 
seconds." 

"  I  must  let  the  gang  know,"  said  Ned  in  high 
elation.  "  That  is  a  pretty  decent  record." 
Reaching  out  he  blew  eight  screeching  calls.  The 
threshers  paused  long  enough  to  respond  with  a 


58  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

trio  of  husky  cheers.  Then  back  they  went  with 
a  will  to  the  grind. 

"  What  a  furiously  busy  gang  you  have,  Ned," 
was  Mary's  ingenuous  observation,  her  eyes  on 
the  lively  sight.  "  You  all  work  as  if  we  are  to 
have  a  two- foot  fall  of  snow,  during  the  night. 
Why  this  haste?" 

Ned  smiled  peculiarly  and  was  silent.  Mar- 
garet came  quickly  to  his  relief.  She  was  aware 
of  the  exact  situation  and  entirely  disapproved,  but 
she  knew  Ned  wished  to  hold  the  truth  from 
Mary. 

"  The  Valley  Outfit  have  been  rushing  along 
at  this  breakneck  speed  for  the  whole  of  October," 
said  Margaret  "  They  are  gambling,  Mary.  The 
boys  have  a  wager  that  they  can  pile  up  a  record 
output  for  the  month.  The  trial  winds  up  to- 
morrow night.  Ned  Pullar  and  his  vaunted  Val- 
ley Gang  are  a  company  of  very  foolish  gentle- 
men." 

"There  are  exceptions  in  the  case,  I  suspect," 
insinuated  Mary.  "  Our  little  Miss  Grant  exempts 
all  tall,  good-looking  separator  men.  Hum !  " 

Ned  laughed. 

"  Were  it  not  for  the  dust,"  said  he,  "  I  would 
take  you  girls  over  for  a  chat  with  our  rather 
handsome  fellow.  I  have  a  hunch,  however,  that 
Margaret  would  scarcely  enjoy  it." 

"  What?  The  handsome  fellow?  "  posed  Mary 
mischievously. 


THE  MAN,  BOB  McCLUEB  59 

"  No.    The  dust,"  replied  Ned. 

"  It  is  a  little  matter,"  agreed  Margaret. 

"  The  handsome  fellow  ?  "  teased  Ned. 

"  No.     The  dust,"  prompted  Mary  archly. 

All  three  laughed. 

"Here,  White!"  called  Ned  to  his  fireman. 
"  You  handle  the  throttle  while  I  take  the  girls  to 
the  mill." 

In  spite  of  the  dust  the  four-cornered  interview 
though  necessarily  brief  resolved  itself  into  a 
charming  "  little  matter."  Andy  was  back  in  his 
place  on  top  of  the  mill  oiling  near  the  carriers. 
Ned  stood  beside  the  girls,  who  were  sitting  their 
horses  just  beyond  the  cloud  of  dust.  They  were 
enjoying  a  few  moments'  contemplation  of  the 
lively  scene  before  departure  for  the  Grant  home- 
stead when  suddenly  a  vivid  light  flashed  red  in 
the  twilight,  flaring  on  the  sweating  face  of  Law- 
rie,  the  big  feeder.  Instantly  followed  a  loud  me- 
tallic crashing.  With  a  strange,  muffled  shout  Law- 
rie  threw  up  his  hands  and  fell  on  the  feed  table, 
pitching  forward  into  the  jaws  of  the  machine.  An 
instant  more  and  he  must  be  seized  by  the  deadly 
teeth  of  the  whizzing  cylinder. 

At  the  blare  of  fire  Ned  uttered  a  cry  of  alarm 
and  rushed  toward  the  separator.  Realizing 
Lawrie's  horrible  plight  he  shouted  to  White  at 
the  throttle  and  taking  a  lightning  leap  drew  him- 
self up  on  the  separator  above  the  whirring  teeth. 
Already  they  were  fanning  the  hair  of  the  insen- 


60  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

sible  feeder  as  his  head  settled  nearer  to  the 
blurred  shine  of  the  hideous  jaws.  Reaching  over, 
Ned  seized  the  helpless  man  and  lifted  him  by  the 
sheer  strength  of  his  powerful  arms  out  of  the 
fangs  of  the  machine.  But  the  weight  of  his  inert 
burden  swinging  suddenly  overbalanced  him. 
Poised  over  that  maw  of  whirling  death  the  two 
men  hung  for  an  awful  instant  as  Ned  fought  to 
recover.  But  the  weight  was  too  much;  Lawrie 
began  to  sink.  It  was  evident  the  two  men  were 
falling  back  into  the  cylinder.  A  scream  of  terror 
leaped  from  the  lips  of  the  horror-stricken  band- 
cutters.  Then  it  was  Ned  felt  his  shoulder  clutched 
in  a  mighty  grip  and  he  with  his  precious  burden 
was  dragged  back  to  the  roof  of  the  mill. 

"  Thank  God  you  were  there,  Andy ! "  exclaimed 
the  big  fellow  breathlessly  as  they  composed  the 
huddled  form  of  the  unconscious  Lawrie. 

"  A  touch  and  go,  Ned ! "  was  the  solemn  re- 
joinder. "  I  did  not  know  anything  was  amiss 
— until  I  heard  your  shout.  It  took  me  an  instant 
to  spot  you  in  the  dust.  Lawrie's  badly  smashed." 

And  so  it  seemed,  for  the  man's  face  was  washed 
with  blood. 

Meanwhile  White  had  shut  down  and  willing 
hands  helped  them  move  the  wounded  man  to  the 
ground.  Water  was  speedily  applied  and  the 
blood  sopped  up,  revealing  a  deep  gash  along  the 
forehead  gouged  by  some  missile  thrown  out  by 
the  rotating  cylinder.  Under  the  steady  bathing 


THE  MAN,  BOB  McCLURE  61 

there  were  soon  signs  of  returning  consciousness. 
Slowly  opening  his  eyes  Lawrie  was  surprised  to 
find  Ned  bending  over  him,  looking  at  him  with 
anxious,  sober  gaze.  A  gleam  of  intelligence  crept 
into  the  man's  face  and  he  smiled  faintly. 

"  Oh,  yes!  "  he  said  reminiscently.  "  I  remem- 
ber. I  felt  it  slip  in  and  tried  to  draw  it  back  but 
it  got  away."  After  a  moment's  pause  he  added: 
"  I  am  afraid  it  has  played  hob  with  the  cylinder 
and  concave.  Have  you  taken  a  look,  Ned  ?  " 

"  You  Lawrie ! "  cried  Ned,  smiling  at  the 
game  fellow.  "  It's  the  man  first  here,  you  know. 
How  are  you  feeling?  " 

"  O.  K,  Ned,  though  by  gum  I  seem  to  have 
taken  the  count." 

Recovering  he  rose  on  his  elbow  and  looked 
around  curiously.  The  gang  were  gathered  about 
him,  a  circle  of  solemn '  faces.  Giving  a  little 
laugh  he  said  naively: 

"  What's  got  your  goat,  pals  ?  " 

"  Shure  'tis  the  lucky,  quare  divil  ye  are,"  said 
Murphy,  "  till  be  dead  wan  minute  and  assistin'  at 
your  own  post  mortin  the  nixt" 

A  hearty  laugh  passed  round  the  circle  reliev- 
ing the  tension.  No  more  was  said,  but  Lawrie 
understood  the  grip  of  Ned's  strong  hand. 

"  We  must  fix  that  cut,  Lawrie,"  said  he,  look- 
ing helplessly  about.  "  This  dirt  will  never  do." 

The  moment  the  girls  realized  the  accident  they 
had  dismounted  and  assumed  the  official  duties  of 


62  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

Red  Cross  first  aid.  Mary  McClure  smiled  at 
Ned's  words.  She  had  already  arrived  at  a  solu- 
tion. Rising  from  her  place  beside  Lawrie  she 
spoke. 

"  Ned,"  said  she  curiously,  "  have  you  a 
knife?" 

"  Here,"  was  the  prompt  response  as  he  pro- 
duced a  jack-knife. 

"  Margaret,  you  take  it,"  said  the  girl,  "  and  if 
the  Valley  Gang  will  close  their  eyes  for  a  minute 
I'll  direct  you  what  to  do." 

At  the  words  she  lifted  her  skirt  daintily,  re- 
vealing the  snowy  white  edge  of  the  petticoat  be- 
neath. With  dancing  eyes  the  gang  made  the 
right  about  turn  and  Lawrie  decided  on  an  imme- 
diate snooze.  A  few  minutes  later  his  brow  was 
bound  with  a  clean  bandage  and  he  was  making 
his  way  shakily  to  the  feed-board.  Calling  a  fare- 
well the  fair  riders  rode  away  over  the  stubble, 
followed  by  the  applause  of  the  grateful  fellows. 

Meanwhile  at  the  machine  there  were  interest- 
ing developments.  Jean  Benoit,  who  was  working 
in  on  the  shakers,  gave  a  sudden  shout  and  popped 
up  out  of  the  separator  holding  something  in  his 
hand.  It  was  a  heavy  wrench.  He  examined  it 
in  a  puzzled  manner  for  a  moment  then  handed 
it  to  Easy  Murphy.  The  tool  was  minus  one  of 
its  jaws.  On  the  remaining  jaw  some  initials  had 
been  punched,  but  they  had  been  almost  obliterated 
through  the  recent  offices  of  a  file. 

"  Dat  no  Valley  wrench !  "  exclaimed  Jean. 


THE  MAN,  BOB  McCLUEB  63 

"  Probably  one  of  Grant's  left  on  the  stock 
during  the  binding,"  said  Ned. 

Easy  Murphy  shook  his  head  sceptically. 

"Ah ! "  was  his  fierce  cry  as  he  tipped  the  tool 
at  a  new  angle  to  the  light.  "  So  I  think.  By  the 
Howly  St.  Paddy !  Take  a  look,  Ned.  Can  you 
see?" 

Ned  took  a  look  and  there  in  the  bright  shine  of 
the  filed  surface  were  good  traces  of  the  punch 
marks  forming  plainly  the  letters,  R-M.  Over 
him  swept  an  ominous  conviction.  Without  a 
word  he  placed  the  wrench  carefully  in  the  tool- 
box. 

"Tis  the  hand  uv  Snoopy  Bill,"  said  Easy 
Murphy  darkly.  "And  'tis  his  foul  plot  near  did 
fer  Lawrie  and  Ned."  Clenching  his  hands  he 
dropped  suddenly  into  a  vengeful  silence. 

A  desire  for  revenge  swept  through  the  gang 
like  an  electric  shock.  Even  Ned's  cool  eyes  emit- 
ted a  dangerous  glare.  Andy  Bissett  saw  the  dire 
change  in  his  companion.  Laying  his  hand  on 
Ned's  shoulder  he  said  quietly: 

"  Ned,  it's  a  dastardly  trick  but  Lawrie  will  be 
well  in  half  an  hour.  It's  up  to  the  Valley  Outfit 
to  call  the  bluff  and  play  the  winning  card.  Half 
a  dozen  teeth  are  gone  in  the  concave  and  several 
others  twisted.  The  cylinder  is  about  as  bad. 
With  fast  work  it  will  mean  only  a  two-hour  stop. 
Let  us  finish  strong." 

"  Very  well ! "  agreed  Ned.  But  his  face  did 
not  resume  its  usual  imperturbable  demeanour. 


64  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

There  was  no  more  threshing  that  night.  Morn- 
ing found  them  out  an  hour  earlier,  however, 
pounding  grimly  ahead,  bent  on  recovering  the 
lost  time.  As  Ned  stood  at  the  throttle,  a  master- 
ful shadow  in  the  gray  dawn,  he  thought  over  the 
adventure  of  the  night  before.  It  seemed  to  hold 
some  sinister  portent.  Easy  Murphy  had  in  the 
meantime  recounted  to  him  the  episode  with 
Snoopy  Bill  Baird.  Two  more  heavy  tools  had 
been  discovered  in  one  of  the  loads.  Suddenly  he 
became  conscious  of  the  malignant  nature  of  the 
foe  with  whom  he  was  striving.  His  jaw  set 
tightly  and  a  mighty  resolution  shot  from  his  eyes. 
Unconsciously  he  opened  the  throttle  and  the 
power  throbbed  with  a  fresh  leap  along  the  great 
belt.  As  he  did  so  a  vision  flitted  unexpectedly 
before  him.  He  saw  Mary  McClure  standing 
amid  the  gang,  her  eyes  alight  with  laughter  while 
she  held  her  skirt  daintily  lifted  to  disclose  the 
snowy  fabric  for  Lawrie's  wound.  Suddenly  his 
face  lost  its  seriousness  and  he  laughed  delight- 
edly. 

"  Mary !  "  he  cried  softly. 

Shutting  off  the  throttle  he  curbed  the  engine 
in  her  impulse  to  race. 

"  I  guess  we  have  a  bunch  of  pressure  left,  Old 
Lady,"  said  he  confidently,  as  he  guided  her  into 
steadiness.  The  thing  of  power  steamed  on  into 
the  strenuous  day  while  the  thing  of  will  threw 
down  the  challenge  of  youth. 


V 

AT  THE  WATER-HOLE 

EASY  MURPHY  shaded  his  eyes  from  the 
sun  as  he  gazed  eagerly  over  the  prairie. 
After  a  prolonged  look  he  remarked: 

"  Begobs,  I  belave  he's  coming !  " 

A  further  scanning  of  the  landscape  elicited  a 
cry  of  satisfaction. 

"  Nick's  headin'  fer  the  howl  all  right,"  said  he 
elatedly. 

The  Irishman  was  standing  on  the  tank,  his 
hand  on  the  pump-handle.  He  had  backed  the 
grays  into  a  pool  fed  by  a  small  creek  that  here 
expanded  into  a  miniature  pond  some  dozen  yards 
across.  In  Western  threshing  the  tankman  draws 
his  water  from  the  nearest  hole  or  stream.  For 
some  days  both  Easy  and  Nick  Ford,  the  McClure 
tankman,  had  been  filling  their  tanks  at  the  same 
pool. 

Nick  Ford  was  known  familiarly  as  Boozey 
Ford,  a  self-explanatory  sobriquet.  Whiskey 
aside,  he  was  one  of  the  most  reliable  tankers 
along  the  Valley.  With  whiskey  by  his  side  his 
water-wagon  was  apt  to  receive  a  diluted  attention. 

As  the  days  sped  by  the  struggle  between  the 
65 


66  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

two  outfits  became  intense.  The  two  tankmen 
were  nearing  the  point  of  interpersonal  complica- 
tions in  their  heated  conversations  on  the  issue. 
Easy  Murphy  was  feeling  irrepressibly  loquacious 
on  this  occasion,  for  he  had  not  met  Boozey  since 
the  affair  of  the  R-M  wrench.  However,  as  Nick 
drove  up  he  began  a  foxy  approach,  greeting  him 
in  a  friendly  manner. 

"  Nick !  How  is  the  wur-r-rld  using  you?  "  was 
his  opening. 

"  So,  so !  "  was  Nick's  no  less  friendly  response. 

"  Ye'll  be  afthurr  faylin'  a  demi-semi-quaver  in 
yer  boots,  Nick,  since  till-night's  the  night  the 
Valley  Outfit  take  the  candy  from  the  kid." 

"  There's  sure  going  to  be  a  lark  to-night," 
agreed  Nick.  "  We'll  have  a  howling  time  put- 
ting the  kibosh  on  your  little,  old  Outfit.  You 
mark  my  words,  Murphy,  when  Jack  Butte  hands 
out  his  estimates  you'll  freeze  stiff.  I'll  bet  you 
even  money  we  lick  you  by  a  thousand." 

"  Just  cover  that  wee  trifle,"  said  Easy,  reveal- 
ing a  ten-dollar  bill. 

"  Sorry  to  rob  you,  Murphy,"  said  Nick,  "  but 
it's  awfully  decent  of  you  to  accommodate  me. 
We'll  hand  it  to  Butte  just  before  the  curtain 
goes  up." 

"'Tis  a  great  pleasure  till  contribute,"  agreed 
Easy  light-heartedly.  Then  he  added  slyly,  "  By 
the  way,  Nick,  did  ye  miss  anny  tools  from  yer 
tool-chist  lately?" 


AT  THE  WATEB-HOLE  67 

"  Not  that  I  know  of,"  was  the  frank  reply. 

"  Shure  we  found  wan  uv  Rob  McClure's 
wrenches  in  our  separator  yisturr-day." 

Nick's  interest  perceptibly  increased. 

"  'Tis  not  the  act  uv  a  gintleman,  but  a  dirty 
trick  uv  Snoopy  Bill  Baird,  and  'tis  achin'  I  am  till 
spile  the  impudint  jaw  of  the  Snoopy  wan  fer  the 
same  foul  act." 

Nick's  blood  began  to  sweep  into  his  animated 
face.  But  the  other  continued: 

"Howld  yer  timper,  lad.  I'm  not  afthurr 
blamin'  you,  Nick.  Yer  as  innocent  as  the  lambs 
in  the  spring." 

His  voice  grew  sweet  as  honey  and  he  made  a 
suspicious  motion  to  his  breast  pocket. 

"  We'll  just  have  a  wee  dthrop  as  gintlemen  to- 
gether on  the  head  uv  the  divilmint,  and  part — 
frinds." 

He  drew  an  amber-coloured  flask  from  his 
pocket. 

"  'Tis  the  rale  Irish,  Nick.  Be  afthurr  washin* 
down  a  swate  swallow." 

He  extended  the  bottle  convivially. 

Nick  took  in  the  sight  with  fascinated  and 
thirsty  eyes.  All  hostility  magically  vanished  and 
a  supreme  joy  capered  shamelessly  into  his  face. 

"  Don't  care  if  I  do,"  said  he,  with  a  too  casual 
unconcern.  "Dad,  that's  prime  stuff!"  was  his 
genuine  approval  as  he  handed  back  the  flask. 

"  Shure  I'm   afthurr  sayin'  the  same  mesilf. 


-68  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

Yer  over  modest,  lad.  Take  a  sip  that  wull  tingle 
the  toes  uv  ye." 

So  gracious  a  pressure  was  not  to  be  resisted, 
and  Nick  responded  with  a  ready  acquiescence  that 
left  nothing  to  be  desired.  Easy  emulated  in  pan- 
tomime, tipping  the  flask  adroitly  but  permitting 
no  drop  to  pass  his  lips.  Taking  another  "  sensa- 
tion," Nick  scurried  off  to  his  own  tank  and  began 
pumping  vigorously.  Soon,  however,  he  felt  the 
desire  for  still  another  touch  and  was  back  at  the 
flask.  Easy  Murphy  kept  the  bottle  supplied  from 
some  mysterious  source  about  his  person.  So  the 
best  part  of  an  hour  passed  and  signs  began  to 
appear  that  Nick  was  rivalling  the  tanks  in  the 
quantity  of  liquid  he  was  carrying.  In  the  mean- 
time Easy  had  leisurely  filled  his  own  tank.  Sud- 
denly The  Mogul,  McClure's  giant  engine,  sounded 
the  water  call.  Nick  recognized  the  signal  and, 
dropping  the  pump-handle,  seized  the  lines  and 
started  off,  urging  his  amazed  horses  in  a  line  of 
patter  that  was  new  to  them.  As  he  drove  away 
Easy  slipped  down  off  his  own  wagon  and,  stealing 
craftily  after,  tapped  the  bung  of  Nick's  tank  with 
a  stone.  One  or  two  skillful  knocks  and  the  peg 
fell  out,  letting  the  water  away  in  a  heavy  gush. 
Throwing  the  bung  into  the  grass,  Easy  climbed 
up  on  his  tank  and  followed. 

Ahead  drove  Nick,  supremely  unconscious  of 
the  fact  that  his  tank  was  fast  emptying.  When 
they  reached  the  road-allowance  he  became  sud- 


AT  THE  WATER-HOLE  69 

denly  confused.  His  trail  lay  directly  across  the 
road  and  into  a  field.  His  horses  would  have 
taken  the  right  way,  but  Nick  pulled  them  up 
sharply.  His  eyesight  was  temporarily  impaired. 
He  could  see  only  the  good  road  running  east  and 
west.  Pulling  on  the  left  line,  he  turned  into  the 
east.  Yet  he  was  not  sure,  and  drew  up  his  horses 
once  more.  His  tongue  was  thick  as  he  called 
back: 

"Hello,  Eashy!  (hie)  Ish  the  trail  (hie)  all 
right?" 

"  Shure  and  indade  it  is  that,"  came  the  wily 
response.  "  Go  right  ahead  to  yer  outfit,  Nick, 
man.  It's  a  foine  road,  the  smoothest  in  the  howl 
counthry." 

With  a  flourish  of  his  whip  Nick  sent  the  un- 
willing team  on  down  the  road.  Crossing  the 
road-allowance,  Easy  entered  the  oat-field  through 
the  wire  fence  and  made  straight  for  his  own  ma- 
chine. As  he  hit  the  stubble  trail  he  heard  the 
Mogul  whistle  impatiently  for  water.  A  moment 
later  she  called  again.  Turning  around,  he  looked 
at  Nick.  He,  too,  had  heard  the  urgent  calls  and 
was  standing  up  driving  like  Jehu.  The  tank  was 
now  empty  and  the  horses  responded  by  breaking 
into  a  smart  trot.  The  sight  was  hugely  enter- 
taining to  the  watcher.  He  slapped  his  thigh, 
shouting  in  unholy  glee. 

"  Be  the  wake  uv  me  grandmother ! "  he  cried 
exultingly,  "  it's  now  we  get  back  the  swate  and 


70  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

precious  minutes  they  filched  by  their  rascalities  uv 
yisterday." 

Away  in  the  distance  Nick  was  driving  like  mad 
while  the  Mogul  tattooed  her  calls  for  water  with 
an  angry  insistence  that  drove  him  from  her  at 
accelerated  speed.  The  circumstance  was  too 
much  for  the  delighted  Irishman.  Laughing  till 
the  tears  rolled  down  his  cheeks  he  called  after  the 
disappearing  Nick: 

"  Go  it,  me  hearty !  Kape  it  up,  bye,  and  ye'll 
soon  reach  the  broad  Atlantic.  Begobs!  Call  in 
at  Winnipeg.  They're  shy  on  water-wagons  in 
the  Gateway  uv  the  Gowlden  Wist." 

Never  a  word  of  the  matter  did  he  give  to 
his  young  boss  as  he  emptied  his  tank  in  prepara- 
tion for  the  next  trip.  His  wickedly  radiant 
face  attracted  Ned,  however,  stirring  his  curi- 
osity. 

"  What's  tickling  you,  Easy  ?  Been  filling  your 
boiler  at  Louie's  tank?  " 

"  Niver  the  dthrop,  Ned.  Not  wanct  since  the 
twilfth  uv  July  have  I  shined  up  till  the  dementin' 
crathur.  'Tis  the  whistle  uv  the  Mogul  that's 
drivin'  me  tipsy.  Somehow  the  thirsty  screamin' 
uv  it  tickles  me  since  uv  the  rediculous." 

"  Rob's  engine  is  out  of  water.  She's  been 
callin'  for  over  half  an  hour,'*  observed  Ned,  look- 
ing over  the  stubble  at  the  rival  outfit.  "  Indeed, 
Easy,  she's  hung  up.  Their  blower  is  stopped." 

At  an  unusual  hearty  chuckle  from  the  tankman, 


AT  THE  WATEE-HOLE  71 

Ned  eyed  him  sharply,  a  suspicion  leaping  into  his 
mind. 

"  Shtopped's  the  wurrd ! "  exclaimed  Easy  in 
feigned  surprise,  shading  his  eyes  the  better  to 
study  the  Mogul.  "  Rob  wull  be  afthurr  havin'  a 
brathin'  spell.  May  it  last  a  wake." 

Ned's  eyes  detected  an  unusual  excitement  on 
his  companion's  averted  face.  His  suspicion  took 
a  sudden  definite  form. 

"  Easy,"  said  he  seriously,  "  you  are  mighty 
pleased  about  something  and  yet  not  at  all  sur- 
prised. Let  me  into  the  secret." 

"  Shure  'tis  plazed  I  am  this  minute,  Ned, 
and  the  most  astonished  critter  on  the  Valley 
Gang." 

"Steady,  lad,"  cautioned  Ned.  "You  can't 
fool  me.  You  know  more  about  the  water  short- 
age at  Rob's  outfit  than  Rob  himself.  What's 
keeping  Nick  ?  " 

Easy  found  a  matter  for  precipitate  occupation 
in  the  barrel  he  was  filling  and  did  not  reply  at 
once.  He  was  seized  with  sudden  panic,  for  he 
had  caught  sight  of  Ned's  face.  The  unsmiling 
eyes  filled  him  with  trepidation.  When  he  at 
length  looked  up  Ned's  clear  eyes  looked  through 
him.  For  once  the  garrulous  Irishman  was  speech- 
less while  a  blush  flamed  slowly  over  his  brown 
face. 

"  Tell  me,"  said  Ned  simply. 

Hitching  his  overalls  nervously  and  somewhat 


72  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

forcefully,  Easy  let  a  broad,  sheepish  grin  play  on 
his  ample  face.  He  attempted  jocularity. 

"  'Tis  a  lugoobrius  confession  ye'll  be  draggin' 
out  uv  me  wid  the  third  degree  uv  yer  blazin'  eye." 

"  Tell  me,"  repeated  Ned. 

"  Wull,"  said  Easy,  scratching  his  head  with 
obvious  regret,  "  since  'tis  implacabul  ye  are,  I'll 
make  it  short  and  swate.  Nick  and  yer  humble 
sarvint  meets  at  the  mud  puddle.  We  pass  the 
complimints  uv  the  sayson,  git  intill  a  small  fracas 
uv  the  tongue  and  out  uv  it  by  the  bottle.  We 
had  a  wee  dthrop.  That  is,  Nick  had.  Thin  he 
took  another  and  another,  et  cetra  and  so  on. 
Nick  was  oncommon  thirsty.  In  a  wurrd,  I  filled 
Nick  till  the  neck  and  pulled  the  bung  uv  his  tank. 
The  one  is  impty  and  the  other  full.  'Tis  the 
Mogul  and  mesilf  knows  which  and, — yersilf,  be- 
gobs,  since  ye  tapped  me  wires.  To  sum  up  fer 
ye,  me  inquisitive  frind,  Rob's  tank  is  impty  and 
his  tankman  full,  and  the  pair  uv  thim  is  headin' 
fer  salt  water  at  a  spankin'  trot.  'Tis  comin'  till 
the  blackgards  if  ye  ask  Easy  Murphy." 

Easy  stood  before  his  boss  with  hanging  head. 
His  confession  had  not  stimulated  any  risible  emo- 
tions in  Ned.  Ned,  on  his  part,  said  nothing,  but 
stood  looking  for  a  little  at  the  culprit,  a  kindly 
light  mingling  with  the  flash  of  his  eyes.  Then 
he  stepped  over  to  his  engine  and,  seizing  the 
whistle-cord,  gave  it  a  jerk,  blowing  the  one  sharp 
shriek  that  signals  stop.  Instantly  the  work 


AT  THE  WATER-HOLE  73 

ceased  and  the  outfit  slowed  to  rest.  Amid  the 
shouts  of  the  men  demanding  the  cause  of  the  stop, 
Easy  Murphy  ran  swiftly  to  Ned. 

"  Ye're  not  afthurr  killin'  the  outfit,"  cried  he, 
a  peculiar  pleading  in  his  voice. 

"  Easy,"  said  Ned  quietly,  "  the  Valley  Outfit  is 
running  this  little  jig  on  the  square.  Not  a  wheel 
turns  on  this  mill  until  McClure  makes  up  every 
minute  we've  killed  for  him." 

The  Irishman  looked  into  Ned's  face.  There 
had  been  the  glimmer  of  an  accusing  look  but  it 
was  gone.  In  its  place  was  something  big  and 
honest  that  hushed  the  angry  protest  about  to  leap 
forth.  Their  eyes  held  for  a  moment,  then  the 
tankman's  fell  while  the  flush  swept  his  face  once 
again. 

"  I'll  explain  to  the  boys,"  said  Ned,  moving 
away  toward  the  separator. 

"  No,  lad,"  cried  Easy,  impulsively  seizing  his 
arm.  "  'Tis  the  hot  curse  I  was  nearly  givin*  ye. 
Ye're  too  white,  Ned,  fer  a  divil  the  loikes  uv  wan 
Easy  Murphy.  Shure  'tis  right  ye  are,  though 
I'm  hatin'  the  idea.  I'll  hike  till  the  mill  and  make 
me  diplomatical  defince  before  the  gang.  Sind  me 
carcas  till  Belfast  whin  the  boys  git  through  wid 
at" 

Making  a  comical  grimace,  he  set  off  to  the 
separator  to  do  the  hardest  thing  he  had  ever  at- 
tempted. 

The  men  listened  silently  while  Easy  made  his 


74  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

brief  and  self-accusative  explanation-  At  the 
abrupt  conclusion  there  resulted  a  most  awkward 
pause.  The  gang  were  dumb  at  the  unexpected- 
ness of  it.  Each  man  was  torn  by  several  desires. 
He  wanted  to  laugh,  to  howl,  in  fact.  But  some- 
thing fine  in  him  rendered  him  mute.  There  was 
a  great  admiration  for  their  game  boss  and  an  even 
greater  admiration  for  their  game  and  artful  cul- 
prit. The  embarrassment  had  about  reached  the 
•explosive  point  when  Jean  Benoit  let  out  a  scream. 

"  Ze  res'  do  moche  good,  I  tink,"  said  he,  shak- 
ing with  laughter.  "  Wan,  two,  tree  cheer  on  de 
boss  an'  dees  ver  bad  Irish  fellow." 

At  his  words  there  broke  out  a  jolly  shout  while 
the  gang  lay  back  on  the  straw  and  laughed  to 
their  heart's  content. 

Through  the  long  wait  there  was  not  a  mur- 
mur. 

Meanwhile  in  McClure's  gang  consternation 
reigned.  The  last  drop  of  water  had  been  sucked 
up  by  the  inspirator  and  the  water  was  sinking 
In  the  glass.  The  men  were  perched  on  all  van- 
tage points  on  the  lookout  for  the  delinquent.  No 
sign  of  him  could  they  discover. 

"  Get  Smithers  to  haul  these  barrels  filled  at  the 
slough,"  directed  McClure  to  Snoopy  Bill,  point- 
ing to  the  barrels  about  the  engine.  "  They'll 
keep  her  going  until  I  can  find  that  blankety  Nick." 

McClure  had  barely  set  off  on  his  quest  when 


AT  THE  WATER-HOLE  75 

one  of  the  teamsters  called  the  attention  of  the 
gang  to  the  sudden  "  hang-up  "  of  the  Valley  ma- 
chine. As  an  hour  passed  and  there  was  no  sign 
of  the  Valley  men  resuming  work,  Snoopy  Bill 
and  his  companions  grew  jubilant  to  a  degree. 

Nearly  two  hours  later  McClure  appeared  rid- 
ing the  tank  and  towing  his  buggy,  in  which  lay 
the  inebriate  tanker. 

A  few  minutes  after,  the  Mogul  was  driving 
ahead  under  full  pressure,  joined  shortly  by  the 
distant  hum  of  the  Valley  Gang.  Into  the  dark 
they  raged,  fighting  ahead  until  eight,  when  the 
defiant  whistles  of  the  rival  engines  told  that  the 
great  run  was  over. 


THE  THRESHING  CHAMPIONS 

LOUIE  SWALE'S  restaurant  was  full, 
choked  with  threshers  agog  for  the  result 
of  the  great  struggle.  Almost  every  in- 
dividual present  had  a  stake  involved.  The  build- 
ing was  a  uniquely  composite  plant,  comprising 
department  store,  cafe,  bar,  club,  all  under  the 
solitary  genius  of  the  rotund  and  active  Swale. 
He  combined  the  offices  of  proprietor,  manager, 
floor-walker,  bartender,  chef,  cashier,  possessing 
an  innocent  smile  of  friendliest  amenity  and  the 
obsequious  deportment  of  a  suave  head-waiter. 
He  had  certain  periodic  fines  to  meet  for  the  vend- 
ing of  ancient  beverages  that  fell  without  the  code. 
These  he  paid  promptly  with  sanguine  light-heart- 
edness.  Louie  Swale  was  universally  liked,  as  are 
all  good  fellows  whom  careless  Nature  throws  into 
life  incomplete  in  the  entire  central  osseous  system 
of  the  vertebrate.  He  was  a  fat,  juicy,  even  com- 
panionable earthworm. 

The  store  carried  a  through  line  from  roots  to 
ribbons,  occupying  the  front  section  of  the  build- 

76 


THE  THEESHING  CHAMPIONS  77 

ing.  Out  of  the  store  one  wandered  into  a  long 
room,  low  and  rectangular,  where  Louie  dispensed 
the  quaffable  and  edible  mysteries  of  his  bar-cafe. 
The  rear  apartment  was  a  blind  room  some  twenty 
feet  square,  containing  a  few  rough  chairs  and  a 
round  table  covered  with  a  green  baize  cloth.  A 
well-thumbed  pack  on  the  centre  of  the  table  was 
the  only  purposeful  article  visible.  There  were 
two  doors,  both  provided  with  heavy  bars  on  the 
inside.  One  opened  into  the  outshed;  the  other 
into  the  bar.  This  door  was  locally  renowned  as 
The  Green  Baize  Door,  and  was  believed  to  secrete 
behind  its  baize-covered  panels  a  barrel  of  myste- 
ries unco',  cabalistic  and  otherwise.  Since  it  was 
windowless,  two  dirty  lamps  did  duty  night  and 
day.  Obviously,  when  the  "  Square  Room  "  was 
occupied  seriously  the  Green  Baize  Door  was  to  be 
found  shut.  At  such  times  a  peculiar  knock  was 
the  sesame. 

Store  and  cafe  were  crowded  with  men  anxious 
to  hear  the  momentous  decision  of  Jack  Butte. 
Suddenly  there  arose  a  stamping  and  shouting. 
The  stakeholder  had  climbed  up  on  a  table  and  was 
calling  order.  Glasses  were  set  down  and  cards 
stacked. 

"  Gentlemen !  "  he  cried.  "  There  is  a  little  pre- 
liminary or  two  I  must  pull  off  before  I  can  an- 
nounce the  winner  of  the  threshing  bout  between 
Rob  McClure  and  Ned  Pullar.  Whatever  the  re- 
sult, I  appeal  to  the  winners  and  losers  to  take 


78  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

their  medicine.  I  want  the  word  of  both  bosses 
that  they  will  not  stand  for  any  sorehead  business 
or  rough  house.  I'll  not  hand  out  the  totals  until 
I  get  that  word." 

Butte  paused  significantly. 

"  Go  ahead,"  said  Ned,  with  a  grin.  "  We'll 
be  good." 

"  Agreed !  "  exclaimed  McClure.  "  My  gang  is 
no  bunch  of  squealers.  Spit  it  out." 

"  Thank  you,  gentlemen,"  said  Butte.  "  That 
is  satisfactory.  But  there  is  another  matter.  Be- 
fore I  hand  out  the  stakes  I  want  you  to  choose 
two  rank  outsiders  from  this  crowd  who  shall  go 
into  the  Square  Room  with  me  and  verify  my  fig- 
ures. When  they  have  made  an  audit  I  will  come 
out  and  give  you  the  facts." 

Speedily  the  arrangement  was  effected  and  the 
three  men  went  in  behind  the  Green  Baize  Door. 

During  the  interim  Easy  Murphy  shuffled  close 
to  Snoopy  Bill  Baird.  Grinning  insolently  into 
his  face  he  addressed  him  in  a  cavernous  stage 
whisper. 

"How's  the  buttercups,  Snoopy?"  said  he. 
"  Ye  did  not  consarn  yersilf  wid  a  second  bokay." 

Andy  Bissett,  standing  near,  placed  his  hand  de- 
terringly  on  Easy's  shoulder. 

"  Steady,  lad !  "  he  whispered.  "  Ned's  given 
his  word.  Keep  in  line." 

Snoopy  Bill  ruffled  instantly  at  the  thrust.  With 
a  quick  snatch  at  his  breast  pocket  he  drew  out  a 


THE  THRESHING  CHAMPIONS  79 

bunch  of  bills  and  fluttered  them  flauntingly  in 
Easy's  face. 

"  How  about  a  bokaa-y  of  these  nice  green 
shamrocks  ?  "  said  he,  with  an  exasperating  laugh. 
"  Have  you  the  eye  for  a  fresh  fifty?  " 

"  Indade,  and  they  are  the  purty  flowers,"  was 
the  quick  response.  "  They're  to  be  had  fer  the 
pickin'.  I'm  wid  ye,  Snoopy." 

Quickly  he  covered  the  bet,  placing  the  stake 
with  a  bystander.  The  incident  stimulated  an 
emulation  in  the  crowd,  and  by  the  time  Butte  ap- 
peared again  the  excitement  had  risen  to  the  point 
of  explosion. 

"  Hold  your  horses  for  a  little !  "  he  cried,  smil- 
ing into  the  glaring  eyes  of  the  gamesters.  "  I'll 
go  right  to  the  point.  For  a  month  past  these  two 
gangs  have  been  hammering  away  to  roll  up  a  big 
total,  and  I  want  to  tell  you  they  have  done  it. 
The  gangs  have  worked  twenty-seven  full  days 
and  have  made  the  record  runs  of  the  Pellawa 
country." 

Butte's  deliberate  manner  was  too  slow  for  his 
strained  audience. 

"Cut  the  talk,  Jack!  Cough  up  the  totals!" 
yelled  a  voice. 

"  Hear,  hear !  "  came  an  applauding  roar. 

"  To  resume,"  said  Butte,  bowing  pleasantly, 
"  in  estimating  the  oats  I  reduced  them  to  a  total 
weight  and  then  dividing  by  sixty,  found  the 
equivalent  in  weight  of  wheat.  The  total  is  there- 


80  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

fore  stated  in  terms  of  wheat.  This  was  agreed 
upon  by  the  two  bosses.  Rob  McClure's  machine 
has  turned  out  a  total  of  seventy  thousand,  eight 
hundred  and  twenty-one  bushels." 

At  the  announcement  the  McClure  gang  and 
their  partisans  lifted  a  shout  of  elation.  Above 
the  ensuing  hubbub  rose  the  brogue  of  Easy 
Murphy: 

"  Shure,  Johnny  Butte,  'tis  a  swell  towtal.  But 
ye'll  hev  till  open  yer  mug  wider,  begobs,  whin  ye 
give  the  Valley  count." 

In  spite  of  the  extreme  tension  a  boisterous  roar 
greeted  the  defy. 

"Against  this,"  said  the  stakeholder  amid  a 
breathless  silence,  "  the  Valley  Outfit  have  rolled 
up  the  huge  total  of  seventy-one  thousand,  nine 
hundred  and  fifty-five  bushels " 

His  words  were  drowned  in  a  wild  ringing 
cheer.  Led  by  Murphy's  deep  bass  roar,  the  Val- 
ley Outfit  let  go.  As  the  rumpus  died  down  Andy 
Bissett  lifted  his  cap  and  shouted: 

"  Three  cheers  for  Rob  McClure's  gang.  They 
made  a  great  run." 

Ere  they  could  raise  the  shout  McClure  yelled: 

"  No !  Saw  off  your  blankety  howl.  We  want 
none  of  it.  You  doped  one  of  my  men  or  you 
would  never  have  turned  the  trick." 

Easy  Murphy's  lips  were  framing  a  reply  when 
Ned  spoke  up. 

"  I  want  to  state,"  said  he  with  quiet  deliberate- 


THE  THBESHING  CHAMPIONS  81 

ness,  "  that  as  far  as  my  knowledge  goes,  the  Val- 
ley Gang  has  run  this  thing  as  straight  as  a  whip. 
I  appeal  to  Jack  Butte.  Do  we  win  on  our 
merits?" 

A  chorus  of  applause  greeted  Ned's  words. 

"Gentlemen!"  replied  the  stakeholder.  "This 
game  has  been  run  on  the  square.  My  figures 
have  been  verified  and  are  open  to  the  public.  The 
Valley  Outfit  are  the  undisputed  champions  of  The 
Qu'Appelle.  Come  up  to  the  counter  and  I'll  pay 
over  the  cash." 

The  convivial  spirit  ran  high  as  the  wagers  were 
collected.  In  the  rear  of  the  room  McClure  and 
his  men  held  angry  concourse.  Suddenly  they 
pushed  their  way  to  the  counter.  McClure  spoke 
loudly,  his  face  and  eyes  aflame. 

"  Come,  Swale,"  commanded  he.  "  We  set  up 
the  drinks  for  the  house.  Make  it  hard  stuff  all 
round." 

His  manner  was  offensive.  Ostensibly  the  host, 
he  was  really  the  bully.  The  Valley  Outfit  made 
no  move  to  accept  the  proffered  treat.  Ned  Pul- 
lar  stepped  up  to  his  sullen  opponent. 

"  No,  Rob  McClure ! "  was  his  crisp  exclama- 
tion, accompanied  by  a  flash  of  indignant  eyes. 
"  We  don't  drink  with  gentlemen  who  insult  us 
in  the  same  breath.  The  Valley  Outfit,  with  their 
little  thirty-six  inch  mill,  beat  you  to  a  frazzle. 
You'll  never  have  a  chance  like  this  again,  for  next 
fall  will  find  The  Qu'Appelle  Champions  caper- 


82  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

ing  about  the  finest  mill  on  the  Pellawa  plains. 
You  look,  Rob,  almost  mad  enough  to  fight.  Very 
well.  I  have  given  Jack  Butte  my  word  to  keep 
quiet.  The  Valley  Outfit  is  going  to  get  out  and 
leave  you  the  whole  house.  If  you  want  to  mix  up 
with  us,  don't  let  us  get  away.  If  you  are  afraid 
of  mussing  up  Louie's  joint  we'll  wait  for  you  out- 
side. Meanwhile,  will  you  accommodate  us,  gen- 
tlemen, by  clearing  away  from  that  door?" 

At  the  words  he  brushed  past  McClure,  who 
stood  glowering  at  him  with  eyes  that  streamed  a 
liquid  hate.  For  all  his  rage  McClure  was  held 
from  battle  by  a  subtle  enervation  that  baffled 
him. 

"The  Valley  Outfit  will  leave  at  once,"  was 
Ned's  cry  as  he  flung  open  the  door.  With  his 
hand  on  the  knob  he  waited  for  his  men  to  pass 
out  before  him.  With  surprising  promptitude 
they  complied.  Easy  Murphy  was  the  last  to 
leave.  Pausing  on  the  threshold  he  turned  about. 

"  'Tis  a  braw  bunch  ye  are,  McClure,  wid  yer 
blower  bunged  and  yer  engine  buckin'.  Begobs,  I 
cud  put  the  howl  gang  uv  ye  till  slape  on  a  wathurr 
wagon.  Come  out  intill  the  moonlight." 

With  that  he  went  out,  followed  by  a  flying  flask 
and  the  curses  of  McClure. 

"  Good-night,  gentlemen !  "  said  Ned,  a  mocking 
light  in  his  eye.  "  We'll  hang  around  outside  for 
ten  minutes  or  so.  If  you  can  make  it,  why — the 
Valley  Outfit  would  be  delighted." 


THE  THRESHING  CHAMPIONS  83 

Once  out  among  his  men  they  urged  him  to  go 
back.  But  he  shook  his  head. 

"  No,  lads!  "  he  said  firmly.  "I  do  not  want 
to  fight.  If  they  come  out  we'll  sail  in.  I  think 
I've  something  better  than  even  a  good  fight.  I'll 
put  you  next  when  we  pull  away  from  Louie's." 

The  ten  minutes  passed.  The  door  opened  once 
but  shut  again.  The  Valley  Gang  hooted  deri- 
sively. They  waited  five  minutes  longer.  Mc- 
Clure  had  evidently  passed  up  the  challenge. 
Though  his  men  knew  it  not,  Ned  was  intensely 
relieved.  He  could  scarcely  understand.  The 
fact  was  McClure  apprised  the  situation  exactly 
notwithstanding  his  rage.  He  was  no  coward; 
nor  was  he  a  fool.  He  knew  that  gang  for  gang 
Ned  had  him  beaten  in  more  ways  than  in  the  mere 
threshing.  Let  the  Valley  Outfit  pull  off  its  bluff. 
He  would  nurse  his  chagrin  and  strike — later. 

When  Ned  got  his  men  well  out  of  ear-shot  he 
addressed  them  in  a  sudden  light-heartedness  that 
surprised  them. 

"  I  want  to  thank  you,  lads,  for  holding  your- 
selves so  wonderfully  when  I  know  you  were  itch- 
ing to  get  your  hands  on  McClure  and  his  oary- 
eyed  crew.  This  is  a  great  night.  We've  threshed 
Rob  McClure  twice  to-night.  We've  out-milled 
him  for  a  month  and  gathered  in  the  wager  and 
we've  handed  him  a  mighty  hard  punch  by  forcing 
him  and  his  gang  to  funk.  We  are  now  going  to 
pull  off  a  little  stunt  that  will  be  remembered  for 


84  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

many  a  day  along  The  Qu'Appelle.  Easy  will  come 
with  me.  The  rest  of  you  get  back  to  the  caboose 
with  Andy.  He'll  put  you  next.  We'll  meet  you 
there  at  eleven  o'clock.  You  will  all  remember 
that  to-night's  Hallowe'en." 

By  a  mighty  effort  of  self-restraint  the  men  ac- 
ceded to  Ned's  request  to  leave  the  village. 
Eleven  o'clock  found  them  waiting  with  Andy,  all 
agog  for  the  next  move. 


VII 
HALLOWE'EN  ON  THE  QU'APPELLE 

AT  eleven  o'clock  McClure  and  his  men 
staggered  out  of  Swale's  joint.  For  half 
an  hour  they  prowled  the  streets,  alarm- 
ing the  village  with  their  wild  whoops.  At  twelve 
they  scrambled  into  their  grain  wagon  and  tore 
down  the  main  street  at  a  furious  pace.  Out  to 
Smithers  they  raced,  a  roistering  company  of 
drunken  fools. 

Ned  and  Easy,  posted  among  the  poplars  in  the 
grove  north  of  the  barn,  saw  them  ride  into  the 
barnyard.  In  the  light  of  the  moon  the  two  men 
could  see  them  tumbling  out  of  the  wagon,  sprawl- 
ing over  each  other,  noisy  and  ill-humoured. 

"  I  see  Rob  at  the  heads  uv  the  horses,"  said 
Easy.  "  He  niver  goes  home  whin  he's  rale  well 
pickled." 

"  We've  got  the  whole  crew  at  home,  then," 
whispered  Ned.  "  We  are  in  luck.  Come,  let  us 
round  up  the  boys." 

Slipping  quietly  away,  they  arrived  at  their  own 
caboose. 

Andy  and  the  rest  were  awaiting  them.  Briefly 
85 


86  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

Ned  rehearsed  his  plans  and  was  gratified  to  find 
them  primed  and  ready  to  the  last  detail.  In  a 
few  moments  they  set  out  for  McClure's  caboose. 
They  carried  planks,  ropes,  hammers  and  spikes, 
while  Easy  Murphy  brought  up  the  rear  with  his. 
huge  span  of  grays.  The  team  was  shrouded  in 
great  dark  blankets  with  black  nets  covering  their 
light  heads.  Each  man  was  masked  with  his  ban- 
danna handkerchief,  giving  the  marauders  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  gang  of  bandits  or  a  lynching  posse. 

At  the  edge  of  the  grove  they  paused  and  lis- 
tened intently.  Not  forty  yards  away  stood  the 
caboose  with  its  crew  of  quarrelsome  men.  A 
confusing  dialogue  of  altercations  was  in  progress. 
After  a  time  the  men  settled  into  their  bunks, 
where  the  bibulous  debate  was  drowsily  main- 
tained, finally  simmering  to  the  thick-tongued  ha- 
rangue of  one  persistent  individual. 

At  a  signal  from  Ned  the  Valley  Outfit  crept 
noiselessly  upon  their  unsuspecting  prey.  Arrived 
at  the  caboose  they  made  a  swift  survey.  The 
farmstead  was  quiet.  Smithers  and  his  men  were 
sound  asleep.  No  interruption  from  that  quarter. 
The  caboose  was  the  usual  midget  bunkhouse,  a 
rectangular  box  on  truck  chassis  with  a  bow  roof. 
At  the  tongue  end  was  a  door.  In  the  other  end 
near  the  roof  was  a  tiny  window,  too  small  for  the 
exit  of  a  man's  body.  Andy  and  his  men  stole 
around  to  the  rear  of  the  caboose.  Striking  one 
end  of  the  plank  solidly  into  the  ground,  they 


HALLOWE'EN  ON  THE  QU'APPELLE     87 

placed  the  other  against  the  middle  of  the  door. 
Two  men  held  it  in  place  while  two  swung  their 
weight  on  it,  holding  the  door  shut  as  with  a  vise. 
McClure  and  his  men  were  trapped.  Quickly  a 
stout  plank  was  placed  across  the  top  of  the  door 
and  nailed  with  five-inch  spikes  to  the  corner  posts. 
Another  plank  was  nailed  similarly  across  the  bot- 
tom, perfectly  sealing  the  caboose. 

By  this  time  a  commotion  had  arisen  within. 
Snoopy  Bill  could  be  heard  shaking  the  men  and 
dragging  them  out  of  their  bunks.  Above  the 
tumult  soared  McClure's  heavy  voice,  disclosing  in 
the  angry  vehemence  of  his  curses  a  swift  conclu- 
sion as  to  the  identity  of  the  assailants.  Outside 
in  the  moonlight  frolicked  the  masked  figures. 
The  excitement  was  intense.  At  Ned's  desire  all 
audible  speech  was  to  be  suppressed.  Easy  Mur- 
phy was  in  his  element  and  wanted  to  holler. 

"  Be  the  ghost  uv  me  grand fahthurr!  "  he  whis- 
pered to  Jean  Benoit.  "  'Tis  the  happiest  hour 
since  Oi  left  Owld  Oireland." 

Amid  ill-suppressed  laughter  the  freak  pro- 
ceeded. Backing  his  horses  to  the  tongue,  Easy 
speedily  hitched  on  and  pulled  out  of  the  barn- 
yard. Long  before  Smithers  and  his  men  could 
wake  and  realize  what  had  happened  the  big  grays 
had  spirited  away  the  caged  crew,  surrounded  by 
the  triumphant  body-guard  of  Valley  threshers. 

Urging  his  horses  to  a  trot,  Easy  turned  into  the 
west  road  and  bowled  along  merrily  over  ruts  and 


88  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

stones  to  the  fierce  accompaniment  of  the  pande- 
monium from  within.  Once  a  head  unwisely  pro- 
truded itself  through  the  small  opening  only  to 
receive  a  smart  rap  and  to  be  instantly  drawn 
in. 

"  Head  across  the  Northwest  Cut,"  directed 
Ned.  "  We'll  run  them  up  on  Bald  Hill,  where 
they  can  get  a  good  view  of  the  lake." 

When  the  brow  of  the  Cut  was  reached  Easy 
reined  in  his  horses. 

"  Shall  we  cross  be  the  thrail,"  said  he  in  a  loud 
whisper  to  Ned,  "  or  shall  we  bounce  sthraight  on 
over  the  rocky  road  till  Dublin  ?  " 

"  Give  them  the  rocky  road,"  was  Ned's  grim 
response. 

"  Begobs,  yer  a  darlin' ! "  cried  Easy,  with  a 
muffled  whoopee  as  he  swung  the  grays  off  the 
prairie  down  the  side  of  the  Cut. 

Then  began  a  half-mile  of  rocking  and  tossing, 
pitching  over  hillocks,  boulders,  badger  holes  and 
stumps,  the  caboose  lurching  about  like  a  ship  in  a 
heavy  sea  and  thoroughly  churning  up  its  human 
contents.  The  little  bunkhouse  became  hideously 
vocal  as  execrations  came  forth,  vengeful  chorus 
from  its  tormented  interior.  Easy's  eyes  seemed 
to  have  uncanny  vision  for  holes  and  hidden  logs 
and  jolting  rocks,  while  the  big  grays,  alarmed  by 
the  outrageous  tumult,  snorted  wildly,  plunging 
through  everything  with  irresistible  force. 

The  weird  passage  of  the  gulch  was  at  length 


HALLOWE'EN  ON  THE  QU'APPELLE     89 

accomplished,  winding  up  on  the  windy  skull  of 
Bald  Hill. 

"  They'll  have  a  very  fine  stretch  of  the  valley 
to  look  into  from  here,"  said  Andy  with  a  grin,  as 
his  eyes  took  in  the  sweep  of  the  hill. 

"  Indade,  'tis  rale  illigint,"  said  Easy.  "  Rob 
wull  be  chargin'  a  nickel  a  pape  from  the  bay  win- 
dow above." 

"  Unhitch  the  grays,  Easy,"  said  Ned,  his  eyes 
darting  mischief.  "  We  are  not  going  to  leave  the 
caboose  here.  The  fun  is  about  to  begin." 

Ned's  remark  was  cryptic.  "If  we  are  not  go- 
ing to  leave  them  here,  why  unhitch  ?  "  was  the 
query  in  every  mind. 

"Ah,  Ned !  'Tis  a  darlin'  I  said  ye  wuz !  "  ex- 
claimed Easy,  seized  by  a  sudden  inspiration.  He 
had  tumbled  to  Ned's  dark  design.  "  Ye  wull  be 
afthur  shootin'  the  shoot  wid  our  f rinds  in  the 
packin'-box  ?  "  was  his  sly  guess. 

"  Hats  off  to  our  little  boss !  "  cried  Andy  softly, 
shaking  with  laughter. 

"  By  gar,  dat  cabooze  yump  on  de  lake  lak  beeg 
eggspress !  Ha !  "  Jean  forthwith  "  went  up  " 
venting  his  ecstasy  in  a  series  of  handsprings. 

When  he  came  down  he  did  what  the  rest  were 
doing.  He  took  a  swift,  keen  glance  at  the  hill. 
The  slope  fell  rapidly  away,  dropping  evenly  hun- 
dreds of  feet  to  the  sandy  shingle  of  the  beach  over 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  away.  Through  a  wide  gap  in 
the  shore  bluffs  could  be  seen  the  silver  shimmer 


90  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

of  the  waves.  There  could  be  but  one  end  to  the 
proposed  flight  of  the  caboose, — the  cold,  white 
bosom  of  the  lake. 

With  deliberate  thoroughness  the  Valley  men 
made  their  preparations.  The  horses  unhitched, 
the  tongue  of  the  caboose  was  roped  high  and 
locked  firmly  so  that  it  could  have  no  side  swing. 
Then  the  men  took  their  places  about  the  wheels 
and  rear. 

"Just  a  minute!"  whispered  Ned.  "One  of 
you  lads  had  better  pull  a  watch  on  this  thing. 
This  old  bus  is  in  for  her  record  run." 

A  chorus  of  subdued  laughs  rpse  above  the  noise 
emanating  from  the  interior  of  the  doomed  ve- 
hicle. 

"  Shoulders  to  the  wheels !  "  was  Ned's  low 
order.  "  Now,  all  together !  Send  her  a-kit- 
ing." 

Every  man  got  down  with  a  will  and  a  smoth- 
ered yo-heave  started  the  caboose  down  the  slope. 
With  a  final  united  shove  they  sent  it  away  from 
their  hands  in  mad  career  toward  the  lake. 
Down  the  hill  it  sped,  swaying  in  its  course  like  a 
drunken  man,  but  heading  straight  for  the  water. 
In  fearfully  accelerated  speed  it  shot  over  the  short 
sand  beach  and  crashed  in  the  gleaming  waves. 
Carried  along  by  its  great  momentum  it  charged 
the  lake  like  a  racing  motor-boat,  throwing  a  huge 
prow  wave  as  it  ran  into  the  deep  water.  Weighted 
with  its  heavy  truck  and  human  freight  it  sank 


HALLOWE'EN  ON  THE  QU'APPELLE      91 

almost  half-way  to  the  roof  before  coming  to  a 
standstill. 

While  the  caboose  sped  down  the  hill  the  perpe- 
trators of  the  deed  watched  its  flight  in  breathless 
interest.  As  it  plunged  into  the  water  a  cheer 
roared  down  the  hillside. 

Meanwhile  in  desperate  rage  and  no  small  alarm 
McClure  with  his  gigantic  strength  had  torn  a 
hole  in  the  roof  and  thrusting  his  shoulders  up- 
ward broke  through  and  climbed  out  just  as  the 
car  came  to  rest  in  the  bed  of  the  lake.  Looking 
up  the  moonlit  hill  he  could  plainly  see  the  group 
of  men  crowning  its  height  and  caught  the  cheer 
that  swept  down.  No  word,  however,  escaped 
him.  Thoroughly  sobered,  the  full  significance  of 
the  daring  lark  burst  upon  him,  sealing  his  lips. 
There  were  times  when  Rob  McClure  was  unex- 
pectedly silent.  Reaching  down  he  helped  his 
men  one  by  one  out  to  safety.  Soon  the  roof  was 
black  with  men. 

"  Dey  some  leetle  drown  rat !  "  exclaimed  Jean 
Benoit,  shaking  with  laughter  at  the  sight.  "  What 
dey  goin'  to  do  ?  " 

Through  the  quiet  air  came  the  answer.  It  was 
McClure's  voice. 

"  I  guess  there  is  nothing  else  for  it,"  said  he. 

Instantly  came  the  sound  of  a  splash.  Other 
splashes  followed  and  then  could  be  seen  a  strag- 
gling line  of  dark  figures  plunging  through  the 
surf. 


92  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

"  Now  let  them  have  it,"  cried  Ned. 

With  all  the  vigour  of  seventeen  pairs  of  power- 
ful lungs  they  lifted  cheer  after  cheer. 

"  Enough !  "  cried  Ned  at  last.  "  This  beats  a 
fight.  We  have  licked  the  whole  gang  without 
anybody  getting  mussed  up.  The  cold  water  will 
help  to  sober  them." 

A  moment  later  Bald  Hill  was  bare. 


VIII 
THE  RIVAL  BOSSES 

McCLURE  sat  in  his  office  nursing  his 
choler,  with  a  face  bitterly  inexorable. 
The  routine  of  threshing  moved  on. 
Looking  through  the  window,  as  upon  a  former 
occasion,  he  saw  the  two  lines  of  smoke  trailing 
off  together  over  the  fields.  The  sight  caused  a 
tightening  of  jaws.  For  an  hour  he  had  sat  mood- 
ily thus,  plunged  in  gloom. 

The  loss  of  the  heavy  wager  was  not  desirable 
and  the  defeat  galled.  But  it  was  not  this  that 
caused  the  baleful  smouldering  within  the  eyes. 
He  tossed  away  the  stake  with  the  sang-froid  of 
the  gamester.  He  would  get  it  back  when  the  luck 
turned.  The  thing  that  incensed  him  was  not  the 
utter  rout  but  the  manner  of  it.  His  shoulders 
had  been  pinned  to  the  mat  by  the  swift  address 
of  an  antagonist  he  had  despised.  The  conviction 
sank  in  upon  him  that  this  young  and  resourceful 
foe  had  toyed  with  him.  This  levity  was  the  barb 
that  inflamed  the  wound. 

The  episode  of  Hallowe'en  was  a  cup  of  gall  to 
him.  The  kidnapping  and  ducking  of  himself  and 
gang  was  a  daring  act  deep  and  wily  in  its  delib- 

93 


94  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

erate  insolence.  He  fancied  he  caught  the  mock- 
ing laugh  on  Pullar's  face.  Ned  had  used  him  for 
a  public  burlesque.  The  caboose  still  lay  in  the 
lake.  Pellawa  was  highly  amused  and — talking. 
Defeat  was  complete  and  bitter.  Added  to  this 
was  the  condemnatory  voice  of  an  inner  and  subtle 
monitor  that  told  him  he  had  been  wrong  from 
the  start  and  moreover  had  not  scrupled  to  foul 
his  man.  His  opponent  on  the  other  hand  had 
played  fair.  These  facts  did  not  trouble  the  con- 
science of  Rob  McClure.  They  nettled  him.  He 
resented  the  alignment  of  public  opinion  with  his 
adversary.  He  would  use  the  same  tactics  again. 
But  he  would  see  to  it  that  the  camouflage  was 
perfect.  The  longer  he  brooded  the  deeper  grew 
his  dour  morosity.  Vengeance  cried  loudly  within 
him.  He  vowed  a  tenfold  reprisal.  Some  day  he 

would  put  on  a  burlesque  himself  and  then 

Suddenly  he  was  roused  from  his  malignant 
reveries  by  a  light  step  outside  the  door.  In  a 
moment  it  opened  quietly,  admitting  Helen  Mc- 
Clure. Her  face  so  compellingly  attractive  had  a 
tragic  weariness  in  it.  A  close  observer  wondered 
at  the  acute  pain  that  would  glance  at  times  from 
the  clear  eyes.  Neither  the  beauty  of  her  fragile 
person  nor  the  remarkable  dignity  of  her  bearing 
could  hide  the  reality  of  suffering.  Rob  McClure, 
man  of  steel  though  he  was,  secretly  acknowl- 
edged the  noble  strength  of  his  wife.  In  a  soft 
voice  she  announced: 


THE  EIVAL  BOSSES  95 

"  Mr.  Pullar  wishes  to  see  you,  Rob."  Turn- 
ing to  the  newcomer  she  smiled  brightly,  inviting 
him  in.  Motioning  him  to  a  chair  she  with- 
drew. 

Ned  remained  standing. 

"  Sit  down,"  said  McClure  coldly. 

"  No,  thank  you !  "  returned  Ned  courteously. 
"  My  business  will  be  brief.  Man  to  man  I  want 
to  know  whether  or  not  you  are  satisfied  with 
Jack  Butte's  decision." 

McClure  darted  a  swift  look  into  the  other's 
eyes. 

"  It  is  a  mere  trifle,"  said  he  with  a  deprecatory 
gesture.  "  Butte  is  straight.  You  got  the  lucky 
breaks." 

"  Very  good !  "  said  Ned.  "  It  gratifies  me  to 
hear  you  say  it.  You  positively  agree  that  the 
Valley  Outfit  win?" 

"  You  got  the  lucky  breaks,"  repeated  McClure. 

"  That  satisfies  me,"  said  Ned  conclusively  as 
he  took  a  package  from  his  breast  pocket.  Reach- 
ing forward  he  placed  the  bundle  on  the  desk  be- 
fore McClure.  His  eyes  flashed  and  his  voice 
had  a  ring  of  steel  as  he  said: 

"  That  is  your  share  of  the  wager  just  as  it  was 
handed  to  me  by  Butte.  You  will  remember,  I 
think,  that  I  did  not  desire  to  take  up  your  bet. 
There  is  your  cash.  I  will  not  touch  the  winnings. 
Gaming  is  the  expedient  of  a  lazy  thief  willing  to 
take  a  chance.  You  can  keep  the  swag.  It  is 


96  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

yours.  Or — you  can  burn  it.  This  completes  my 
business.  I  wish  you  good-day." 

McClure  was  astounded.  His  eyes  dropped 
amazedly  to  the  package  before  him.  For  a  full 
minute  he  stared  at  the  wad  of  ragged  edged  bills. 
Then  into  his  face  flooded  a  black  tide.  His  hands 
clenched,  clutching  in  a  horrible  convulsion  of 
rage. 

"  You  insolent  devil !  "  he  cried  fiercely,  hurling 
the  package  to  the  floor.  Turning  he  flashed 
angry  eyes  about,  surprised  to  find  that  he  was 
alone  in  the  room.  He  leaped  to  his  feet,  non- 
plussed, baffled.  His  eye  caught  a  motion  outside 
the  window.  It  was  Ned  unhitching  his  horse 
from  the  post  not  thirty  yards  away.  At  sight 
of  his  enemy  a  fearful  idea  came  to  him.  Reach- 
ing down  swiftly  he  opened  a  drawer  and  snatch- 
ing out  a  revolver  broke  open  its  blue  chambers. 
There  was  a  gleam  of  brass  rims.  It  was  loaded. 
With  a  menacing  cry  he  stepped  to  the  window 
and  threw  up  the  sash.  He  was  dropping  the 
sight  on  the  tall  figure  when  his  ear  caught  the 
tripping  of  light  feet  along  the  hall.  It  was  Mary 
coming  to  his  room.  He  held  the  gun  on  his  tar- 
get for  the  briefest  instant,  then  dropped  the 
muzzle  and  thrust  it  covertly  into  his  pocket.  As 
he  whirled  about  Mary  burst  through  the  door,  a 
lithe,  little  figure  in  riding  boots,  sombrero  and 
habit.  She  looked  at  him,  her  face  radiant,  her 
eyes  dancing  with  the  joy  of  living.  He  seemed 


THE  KIVAL  BOSSES  97 

hesitant.  Could  it  be  that  for  once  her  father  was 
inviting?  With  a  happy  cry  she  closed  upon  him. 
He  smiled  a  strange,  relieved  smile. 

"  Daddy  I  Daddy !  "  she  cried  delightedly.  "  I 
have  had  such  a  glorious  ride.  Bobs  pranced 
down  the  trail  a  thing  of  wildest  life,  making  the 
trip  from  The  Craggs  in  less  than  an  hour." 

Throwing  her  arms  about  his  neck  she  drew  his 
head  gently  to  her.  Swept  off  his  feet  by  the 
swift  denouement  of  the  last  few  minutes,  he  sub- 
mitted to  her  will.  For  the  first  time  in  years  she 
felt  the  absence  of  chilling  repulse.  Holding  him 
close  in  her  ecstasy  she  kissed  his  forehead  again 
and  again.  With  a  final  caress  she  laid  her  cheek 
against  his  for  one  silent,  happy  moment,  then 
broke  away  and  ran  off  to  her  room  thrilling  with 
pleasant  emotion. 

Mary  McClure  did  not  know  that  her  glad  ar- 
rival had  held  her  father's  hand  from  an  unspeak- 
able crime.  He  was  indeed  grateful  to  her  for  the 
interposition,  though  his  face  showed  no  repent- 
ance. There  was,  though,  a  regretful  pang  in  the 
breast.  It  was  caused  not  by  any  faint  penitence 
for  his  evil  design  but  by  the  memory  of  Mary's 
cheek  against  his.  The  "  feel  "  of  her  soft,  tender 
touch  was  there.  For  some  strange  reason  the 
memory  of  it  sank  deep.  The  sound  of  her  foot- 
steps had  scarcely  died  away,  however,  when  the 
old  ruthlessness  returned.  The  relief  he  now  felt 
was  that  of  one  who  had  been  saved  from  com- 


98  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

mitting  a  violent  inexpediency.  Glancing  through 
the  window  he  saw  the  horseman  cantering  lei- 
surely down  the  trail.  As  he  watched  the  hard 
lines  drew  about  his  mouth.  He  began  casting 
about  for  the  package  of  money,  finding  it  at 
length  near  the  door.  Picking  it  up  he  looked  at 
it  a  moment  with  bright  eyes  that  acknowledged 
an  enigma.  Walking  to  the  window  he  looked  out, 
smiling  secretively  and  shaking  the  wad  ominously 
at  the  Valley  boss. 

"  It  will  help  to  break  you,  Pullar,"  was  his 
threat. 

Going  to  the  desk  he  opened  a  large  drawer  and 
deposited  the  money  carefully  in  a  tin  box. 

Above  in  her  room  Mary  watched  Ned  ride  out 
of  sight  into  the  Valley.  She  was  greatly  mysti- 
fied as  to  the  purpose  of  his  visit.  She  regretted 
missing  a  meeting  with  him,  but  reflected  with 
deepest  happiness  on  the  friendliness  of  her  father. 
The  moment,  she  felt,  was  full  of  happy  augury. 


IX 

A  LAND  SHARK 

REDDY  SYKES  had  drifted  into  Pellawa 
during  the  early  weeks  of  summer. 
Though  at  first  an  anomaly  in  the  little 
town,  the  citizens  grew  used  to  his  presence.  It  was 
hard  to  define  Sykes'  business.  He  was  not  a  lawyer, 
though  he  had  a  distinctly  legal  turn  of  mind.  He 
had  acquired  the  title  of  Commissioner.  He  began 
work  in  the  village  with  a  command  of  consider- 
able capital.  His  most  lucrative  line  was  real  es- 
tate. He  bought  and  sold  farms  and  manipulated 
the  transfer  of  large  acreage  blocks.  A  few  city 
shingles  decorated  his  window  but  the  great  urban 
boom  of  the  West  was  as  yet  on  the  verge  and  the 
subdivisional  mania  had  not  got  properly  under 
way.  The  ability  of  the  new  arrival  in  his  selected 
field  was  so  surprising  and  apparent  that  his  pres- 
ence in  Pellawa  was  a  poser  to  the  shrewd  minds 
of  the  plains.  He  could  have  made  things  hum 
in  a  bigger  world. 

Personally,  Sykes  was  a  character  that  invited 
scrutiny.  He  was  comparatively  young,  still  in  the 
early  thirties,  possessing  a  full-blooded  interest  in 

99 


100  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

life.  His  face  was  unusually  hard  for  so  young 
a  man  and  wore  an  habitual  calculating  expres- 
sion. He  was  a  man  of  scheme  and  intrigue.  His 
motion  as  he  moved  about  was  very  like  that  of 
Reynard  as  he  slunk  through  the  night  en  route 
to  Mr.  Farmer's  chicken  coop.  He  lived  by  his 
wits,  searching  the  trail  closely  for  tracks  of  his 
prey.  His  nose  was  always  in  the  wind.  He  was 
alert  for  the  lucky  cast  of  the  die  that  should 
tumble  fortune  into  his  lap.  Inventive  and  re- 
sourceful, his  mind  stored  a  great  fund  of  prem- 
ises. He  could  adopt  and  discard  twenty  view- 
points in  as  many  minutes.  The  stolid,  common- 
place farmers  fought  shy  of  Sykes,  shunning  his 
speciousness,  afraid  of  a  snare.  They  felt  the  un- 
relenting, unscrupulous  thing  in  the  man,  though 
unable  to  detect  it  in  his  handsome  face. 

Notwithstanding  the  diffidence  of  the  farmers 
to  enter  into  free  commerce  with  the  real  estate 
agent  he  had  become  an  accepted  cog  in  the  social 
wheel.  He  had  made  one  powerful  friend — Rob 
McClure.  The  two  drew  together  like  steel  and 
magnet.  The  attraction  fused  into  an  implicit 
partnership  from  the  very  start.  There  was  a 
reason  for  this,  a  matter  on  which  Rob  McClure 
was  utterly  in  the  dark.  Only  one  person  in  the 
settlement  had  even  surmised  it.  Reddy  Sykes 
was  dominated  by  the  mightiest  of  human  mo- 
tives in  his  facile  address  at  fostering  a  strong 
friendship  with  McClure.  Ned  Pullar  alone  un- 


A  LAND  SHAEK  101 

derstood  that  he  was  at  once  lured  by  the  passion 
of  love  and  urged  by  the  fell  ardour  of  hate.  The 
object  of  his  regard  was  Mary  McClure.  The 
object  of  his  rancour,  Ned  himself.  He  had  ef- 
fected his  purpose  with  McClure  by  an  ingratiating 
cunning  assisted  by  an  unusual  mutual  attraction. 
His  relations  with  Mary  and  Ned  ran  back  into 
the  cross  currents  of  their  university  life.  Of 
that  again, 

Sykes'  friendship  with  McClure  opened  to  him 
the  McClure  home.  He  availed  himself  of  the 
hospitality  in  a  wise  and  restrained  use  of  the 
privilege.  His  reception  had  been  cordial.  The 
two  women  were  only  too  glad  to  promote  good- 
will with  a  friend  of  Rob's.  Helen  McClure  was 
always  pleased  to  welcome  the  gentlemanly  guest. 
Mary  in  her  secret  mind  was  very  considerably 
perturbed,  remembering  certain  advances  made  by 
Sykes  in  the  past.  She  had  turned  him  down  on 
occasion  and  once  had  deservedly  and  effectually 
snubbed  him.  She  was  agreeably  surprised,  how- 
ever, at  his  casual  gallantries.  He  was  courteous 
and  companionable,  but  did  not  in  the  faintest  de- 
gree press  his  attentions. 

Sykes  had  been  moving  about  his  office  studying 
closely  certain  realty  maps  of  local  townships. 
His  search  over,  he  sat  down  at  his  desk  and  pick- 
ing up  a  letter  read  it  carefully.  This  was  the 
third  perusal.  He  was  pondering  some  undoubt- 
edly alluring  proposition.  In  his  mouth  he  held 


102  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

an  unlit  cigar,  rolling  it  around  in  unconscious 
habit,  occasionally  chewing  off  the  end  and  throw- 
ing it  away.  Looking  through  the  window  out 
upon  the  street  he  saw  something  that  brought 
sudden  resolution  into  his  eyes.  Andy  Bissett 
was  dashing  by  with  his  team  of  blacks.  He  pulled 
up  in  front  of  a  store  and  hurriedly  tied  his  horses 
to  a  post.  He  was  about  to  enter  the  store  when 
Sykes  hailed  him.  Andy  walked  over  and  entered 
the  office. 

"How's  the  Valley  Outfit?"  inquired  Sykes 
pleasantly. 

"  Laid  up  with  a  broken  shaft,"  was  the  reply. 

"  I've  been  looking  out  for  you  to-day,  Bissett," 
said  Sykes  affably,  plunging  into  business.  "  I 
want  you  to  read  this." 

He  handed  over  the  letter  he  had  just  been  read- 
ing. 

"  This,"  said  he,  "  is  a  communication  from  a 
farmer  in  Northern  Alberta  who  is  anxious  to  get 
hold  of  a  farm  in  this  settlement.  He  owns  a  sec- 
tion and  is  willing  to  swap  it  for  an  improved  half 
in  the  Pellawa  district.  The  full  description  of 
the  land  is  there.  It  is  a  big  snap." 

Andy  read  the  letter  rapidly  then  handed  it 
back. 

"  I  have  nothing  I  would  care  to  exchange  for 
that,"  said  he  quietly. 

"  How  about  the  quarters  you  are  renting  to  the 
Poles?" 


A  LAND  SHARK  103 

Andy  shook  his  head. 

"  Not  in  the  market." 

"  Some  of  your  friends  might  consider  the 
proposition." 

"  No,"  said  Andy  decidedly,  "  I  could  not 
recommend  the  deal  to  any  of  my  friends.  Per- 
sonally I  do  not  like  it." 

Sykes  looked  up  sharply  with  the  Reynard-like 
movement. 

"  This  is  an  A-l  chance,  a  windfall  for  some- 
body." 

"  It  may  be,"  agreed  Andy  dubiously.  "  It 
seems  to  me  unusual.  Aside  from  that,  however, 
it  is  not  the  snap  it  appears." 

Sykes'  voice  sounded  a  shade  metallic  as  he 
said: 

"  How  do  you  make  it  ?  " 

Andy  noted  the  change  in  tone  but  continued 
pleasantly : 

"  In  the  first  place  this  land  about  Pellawa  is 
simply  wonderful.  That  other  may  be  good. 
Then  again  there  is  a  pretty  fast  movement  up  in 
this  Valley  land.  We  are  expecting  it  to  sky- 
rocket. Things  are  promising  hereabouts.  I 
think  it  will  be  well  to  stick." 

"  Still,"  objected  Sykes,  "  the  difference  in  acre- 
age is  great.  It  covers  all  rise." 

"That  may  be.  Who  can  tell?  That  point 
would  have  to  be  settled  by  a  personal  visit  to  the 
Alberta  farm." 


104  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

Sykes  shifted  his  cigar  impatiently,  biting  it 
viciously. 

"  How  about  Pullar  ?  "  he  queried  carelessly. 
"  He  might  swap  the  homestead.  He  is  young 
yet — just  the  age  to  pitch  into  a  section  of  virgin 
land.  Pullar's  the  man." 

"  You  mean  Ned  ?  "  said  Andy. 

"  Of  course." 

"  Ned  would  not  consider  the  matter  for  a  min- 
ute." 

"Why?" 

"That  land  is  his  father's.  Ned  is  manager 
and  real  head,  but  the  land  is  still  deeded  to  his 
father.  Although  the  old  man  has  desired  to  make 
all  or  any  part  over  to  the  boy,  Ned  would  not 
agree." 

Sykes  seemed  to  muse  on  the  matter  a  moment. 
Andy  did  not  notice  the  cunning  light  flash  into 
the  other's  eyes.  His  companion's  quick  mind  had 
gathered  something  of  great  interest  to  him. 

"  The  fact  is,"  said  Andy  deliberately,  "  I  would 
not  recommend  this  to  any  friend  of  mine,  as  I 
have  said." 

Suddenly  a  resentful  light  burned  in  Sykes' 
eyes. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  will  knock  this 
deal?  "said  he. 

"  Sure,"  said  Andy  smiling.  "  I'll  knock  it  into 
a  cocked  hat  if  anybody  appeals  to  me." 

"  Say ! "  said  Sykes,  the  lash  of  sarcasm  enter- 


A  LAND  SHAEK  105 

ing  into  his  tone.  "  You  rubes  carry  some  side, 
eh?  A  few  of  you  little  farmers  think  you  can 
chin-up  to  Reddy  Sykes.  Bah!  " 

He  turned  on  his  heel. 

With  a  cheerful  "Good-day!"  Andy  took  his 
departure. 

Looking  at  the  figure  crossing  the  street  Sykes 
smiled  sardonically. 

"  Much  obliged,  Bissett  1 "  was  his  muttered 
soliloquy.  "  You  were  easy.  Ha  I  It  looks  pretty 
good !  Pretty  good  to  me ! " 

Late  that  night  McClure  appeared  in  the  office. 

"  Anybody  with  you?  "  inquired  Sykes,  looking 
up  as  he  entered. 

"  No.  I  am  alone,"  was  the  response.  "  Took 
a  skip  in  to  get  a  line  on  business.  Anything 
new?" 

For  answer  Sykes  thrust  the  letter  into  his  hand. 
McClure  recognized  the  source  instantly. 

"  He  has  located  another  spot,  I  see." 

Sykes  nodded. 

Looking  up  from  the  letter  McClure  ruminated 
for  a  moment. 

"  There's  good  money  in  these  transfers  if  we 
can  get  them  going.  That's  where  good  fishing 
comes  in." 

"Tried  Bissett  to-day,"  observed  Sykes  rue- 
fully. 

"It  was  no  go?" 

"  No." 


106  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

"  Keep  away  from  Bissett,"  was  McClure's  low 
counsel.  "  There  are  easier  prospects.  If  not 
we'll  have  to  chuck  it." 

"  Chuck  nothing !  "  was  Sykes'  incisive  ejacula- 
tion. "  This  community's  full  of  suckers.  There 
are  droves  of  easy  rubes  hereabouts  fairly  howl- 
ing, *  Come  touch  me  up/  ' 

For  a  moment  McClure  rubbed  his  chin  re- 
flectively. Sykes  eyed  him  closely. 

"  I  know  what  you  are  hunting  down,"  said  he, 
looking  McClure  full  in  the  eye.  "  You're  on  just 
one  trail  these  days.  You  are  tracking  the  boss  of 
the  Valley  Outfit" 

McClure  looked  up  surprised. 

"  I  see  I've  hit  it,"  resumed  Sykes  with  a  laugh. 
"  Bissett  put  me  next  a  little  fact  that  has  a  whole 
barrelful  of  possibilities.  He  informs  me  that 
Pullar's  three-quarter  sections  are  all  in  the  old 
man's  name." 

McClure  shook  his  head. 

"  Don't  believe  it.  Ned's  too  good  a  head  to 
stand  for  that." 

"  It's  a  fact,  just  the  same,"  maintained  Sykes. 
"  Bissett  told  me  all  about  it." 

"What  if  it  is?" 

"  I  guess  you  know  old  Ed.  Pullar.  Thirsty 
old  guy  at  times." 

McClure  laughed  wisely. 

"That's  the  point,"  said  Sykes  in  a  whisper. 
"  We  have  an  even  chance  of  getting  him  there." 


A  LAND  SHARK  107 

McClure  said  nothing,  but  Sykes,  watching  him 
from  the  foxy  crevices  of  his  half-shut  eyes,  knew 
that  he  had  probed  a  mighty  impulse  in  his  com- 
panion. The  gloating  of  anticipated  revenge 
looked  out  of  Rob  McClure's  great  eyes.  He  was 
roused  from  his  baleful  reverie  by  the  voice  of 
Sykes. 

"  That  prospect  pleases  you,  Rob,"  said  he  in  a 
significant  tone  that  drew  the  swift  glance  of  Mc- 
Clure. "  And  I  am  with  you  to  the  limit  pro- 
vided   " 

He  paused  and  looked  peculiarly  at  the  other. 
McClure  was  puzzled. 

"  Provided,"  resumed  Sykes,  "  you  do  the  same 
with  me." 

"  You  have  me  guessing,  Reddy." 

"  You  do  not  know  what  I  am  driving  at  ?  " 

McClure  shook  his  head. 

"  Then  I'll  set  you  right.  For  some  years  I 
have  known  the  daughter  of  Rob  McClure.  All 
these  years  I  have  regarded  her  as  the  one  thing 
desirable.  That  is  why  I  am  out  among  the  rubes. 
She  has  never  been  more  gracious  than  since  my 
arrival  here.  You  stand  by  me  there  and  I'm  with 
you.  You  can  do  a  lot." 

The  two  men  looked  long  into  each  other's  eyes. 
Then  McClure's  gaze  became  abstract  and  far 
away.  He  was  seeing  something  other  than  Sykes' 
glittering  eyes.  He  saw  Mary  as  she  burst  in  upon 
him  the  day  of  his  interview  with  Ned.  He  felt 


108  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

the  soft  touch  of  her  cheek.  Suddenly  he  was  re- 
called to  the  issue. 

"  Well  ?  "  was  the  crisp  challenge. 

"  Go  right  in  and  win,"  said  he  with  a  strange 
smile.  "  Do  it  right  and  I'm  agreeable.  So  far  as 
I  know  you  have  a  clear  field.  You  can  count  on 
me." 

"  You  think  the  field  is  open  ?  "  said  Sykes. 

"  There  isn't  a  doubt.  I  know  all  about  my 
girl." 

Sykes  smiled  and  let  it  go  at  that.  There  was 
some  information  he  could  impart  to  this  cock- 
sure father  but  it  would  be  more  serviceable  later. 
He  reflected  for  a  moment  on  the  effect  of  the 
disclosure  that  Ned  Pullar  was  very  much  in  the 
field.  Then  he  smiled  again,  conscious  of  holding 
a  rather  high  hand. 

McClure  could  see  no  untoward  possibility  and 
was  satisfied. 

So  they  made  the  compact. 


THE  DREAMER 

THE  watcher  stepped  back  into  the  shelter 
of  the  maples.  She  had  emerged  from 
them  but  a  moment  before  and  had  been 
on  the  point  of  addressing  the  worker  when  her 
capricious  will  deterred  her.  She  was  looking 
upon  the  great  figure  of  a  man.  He  was  aged, 
nearing  the  fullness  of  the  allotted  span.  His 
shoulders,  however,  were  square  and  his  back 
straight.  His  form  rose  to  a  towering  height,  re- 
taining its  lines  of  strength  and  was  crowned  by  a 
shapely  head  with  its  resplendent  glory  of  long 
white  hair.  The  face  was  noble  with  a  touch  of 
gentleness.  The  intelligent  eyes  had  a  masterful 
light  mingling  with  the  dreaminess  of  them,  while 
his  cheeks  had  the  soft  rotundity  of  a  child's  and 
the  roses  of  a  girl.  Before  her  stood  the  father 
of  Ned  Pullar.  Often  had  she  heard  of  him. 
This  was  the  first  time  she  had  really  beheld  him. 
She  was  very  surprised,  agreeably  so. 

The  old  man  was  busy  flailing  a  bag  of  chaff. 
So  absorbed  was  he  in  his  employment  that  he  was 
rudely  startled  when  a  woman's  voice  accosted  him 
gently. 

109 


110  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

"Mr.  Pullar,  I  believe!" 

Looking  up  suddenly  he  detected  a  small  girlish 
figure  in  white.  Her  face  was  attractive  with  a 
bright  friendliness  that  set  him  instantly  at  ease. 

"  I  am  highly  honoured,"  was  his  reply  as  he 
set  down  his  stick  and  bowed  with  courtly  stateli- 
ness.  "  Is  it  the  little  teacher  I  have  the  pleasure 
of  greeting?  " 

"I  am  Mary  McClure!" 

The  old  man  walked  over  and  held  out  his  hand 
with  Western  hospitality. 

"  Welcome  to  The  Craggs,  lassie.  The  lad, 
Ned,  has  been  telling  me  much  about  you.  Will 
you  not  sit  down  ?  " 

He  placed  a  rustic  chair  before  her. 

"  I  have  been  waiting  for  you  to  call  on  your 
new  neighbour,"  said  Mary  with  a  smile  as  she 
accepted  the  proffered  chair.  "  But  you  have  not 
favoured  us  yet.  I  am  afraid  you  will  find  me  a 
very  impatient  and  exacting  neighbour,  Mr.  Pul- 
lar." 

His  eyes  twinkled  at  her  speech. 

"  Well  now,  that  is  a  pretty  rub,"  said  he 
amusedly.  "  I  shall  have  to  hunt  up  my  visiting 
cards  and  call  around." 

"  Now,  see  that  you  do,"  was  the  girl's  reply  as 
she  shook  an  accusing  finger  at  him.  "  But  you 
must  not  entertain  now,  Mr.  Pullar.  I  came  over 
to  watch  you  at  work.  I  am  curious  to  know  why 
you  were  belabouring  that  poor  sack  so  roundly." 


THE  DEEAMEE  111 

The  old  man  laughed  delightedly. 

"  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it,"  was  the  reply.  "  I 
am  threshing  the  wheat  that  is  in  it." 

"  But  why  do  you  have  to  do  that  with  a  stick  ? 
Is  Ned  not  the  best  thresher  along  the  Valley  ?  " 

A  proud  look  came  into  the  old  man's  eyes. 

"  Do  you  think  so,  lass?  " 

"  Indeed  I  do.  And  so  does  the  whole  settle- 
ment." 

"  It  is  so,  I  believe,"  was  the  frank  agreement. 
"  But  Ned  does  not  thresh  this.  Those  bags  are 
filled  with  rare  wheat  heads  selected  from  our 
head-row  plots.  For  them  I  use  the  flail." 

He  had  pointed  to  where  a  line  of  a  dozen  bulg- 
ing grain  sacks  swung  on  a  stout  rope  between 
posts. 

Mary's  eyes  opened. 

"  Mr.  Pullar,"  said  she  engagingly,  "  I  have 
heard  most  interesting  rumours  of  what  a  wizard 
you  are  with  seeds.  One  man  told  me  solemnly 
that  he  believed  you  could  grow  a  good  crop  in  a 
field  of  dry  dust.  Is  it  true  that  you  have  de- 
veloped a  new  variety  of  wheat?  " 

For  a  moment  the  old  man  did  not  answer.  In- 
stead he  read  earnestly  the  beautiful,  vivacious 
face  of  the  girl  and  the  eyes  deep  in  their  intelli- 
gence. 

"  I  believe,  lassie,  you  would  understand,"  was 
his  satisfied  reflection.  "  Would  you  like  to  hear 
the  truth  about  The  Red  Knight?  " 


112  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

Mary  looked  steadily  into  the  eyes  above  her. 
She  did  not  comprehend  the  meaning  of  his  ques- 
tion but  she  was  fascinated  by  the  noble  enthu- 
siasm that  swept  over  the  fine  old  face. 

"  Tell  me.  Will  you  ? "  was  her  soft  voiced 
reply. 

"  Come  with  me,"  said  he.  "  I  will  show  you 
something." 

The  tone  of  his  voice  deeply  impressed  her. 
She  knew  that  she  was  about  to  venture  into  the 
sacred  recesses  of  a  life.  She  followed  him  to 
the  porch  where  rested  a  tub.  Seizing  the  handle 
he  pulled  it  out  into  the  sunlight.  Lifting  a  cover- 
ing he  disclosed  to  her  eyes  a  mass  of  grain — 
beautiful  wheat,  brown-gold  in  colour,  with  the 
wealthy  red  tinge  that  tints  the  peerless  milling 
kernel.  The  plump,  red  berries  suggested  to  her 
heaps  of  tiny,  golden  pebbles.  She  was  aston- 
ished and  silent. 

"  It  is  The  Red  Knight,"  said  he  simply,  stoop- 
ing and  dipping  up  a  handful.  She  observed  how 
fondly  he  held  it  in  the  palm  of  his  great  hand. 

"  It  is  very  dear  to  you,"  was  her  gentle  remark. 

Once  again  he  studied  her  eyes.  They  looked 
up  at  him  with  a  clear-eyed  rapture  that  provoked 
his  grateful  confidence. 

"  Come,  lassie !  Rest  while  I  tell  you  the  tale 
of  the  finding  of  The  Red  Knight. 

"  It  will  be  forty  years,  come  Maytime  again, 
since  I  brought  Kitty  Belaire  from  the  old  East 


THE  DBEAMER  113 

over  the  Valley  of  The  Qu'Appelle  to  The  Craggs. 
Here  we  set  up  a  home  in  the  little  log  hut  you  can 
see  at  the  end  of  the  lane.  In  the  log  hut  was 
born  the  first  wee  bairn.  He  did  not  stay  with  us 
long  and  we  laid  him  away  in  the  dip  beyond  the 
bluffs.  There,  too,  Ned  came  to  us,  filling  the  sore 
spot  in  our  hearts  left  by  his  little  brother.  We 
were  happy,  the  three  of  us,  though  we  had  little 
to  do  with,  and  the  work  was  hard.  The  years 
were  years  of  struggle.  We  fought  the  winds  and 
the  drought,  rust,  smut,  hail  and  the  frost  with 
little  success  to  boast  about.  One  year  we  had  a 
bumper  crop  with  prices  low.  Then  followed  one 
or  two  without  a  harvest.  Ned  was  growing  to 
be  a  husky  little  chap  when  a  crop  grew  on  the 
place  that  promised  us  a  forty-bushel  yield.  But 
one  day  a  black  cloud  swept  over  the  homestead 
and  in  ten  minutes  it  was  gone.  We  had  no  seed. 
On  the  heels  of  the  hail  came  a  drought  year. 
Following  it  appeared  a  crop  that  filled  the  settle- 
ment with  hope.  We  were  getting  ready  to  cut 
when  a  blight  appeared.  The  rust  reduced  the 
yield  from  forty  bushels  to  five.  So  passed  the 
years  and  the  battle  went  against  us,  with  the  frost 
the  worst  enemy  of  all.  One  terrible  harvest  it 
came  to  me  that  the  seed  was  wrong.  It  matured 
too  slowly.  What  we  needed  was  a  seed  that 
would  come  along  fast  enough  to  harden  before 
the  blight  of  the  rust  or  the  nip  of  frost  The 
following  harvest  I  set  out  on  a  quest.  One  day 


114  THE  Y^i^LEY  OF  GOLD 

I  discovered  a  patch  of  ripe  heads  among  the  fill- 
ing grain.  Upon  shelling  them  I  found  a  plump 
kernel  fully  matured.  I  plucked  the  strange  heads 
and  carefully  preserved  the  wheat.  When  seeding 
time  came  round  again  I  sowed  them  on  a  bit  of 
new  ground  in  the  garden.  They  came  up  strong 
and  far  outstripped  the  other  grain.  I  had  great 
hopes.  Filling  time  arrived  and  I  watched  devel- 
opments. It  was  now  plain  to  me  that  the  new 
variety  would  ripen  fully  two  weeks  ahead  of  the 
old  type.  Then,  in  the  depths  of  night,  a  crashing 
hailstorm  and — my  precious  plot  smashed  into  the 
earth. 

"  I  had  made  the  fatal  mistake  of  not  preserving 
a  few  kernels  against  accident.  But  that  was  the 
beginning.  Henceforth  I  was  alert  to  discover 
any  quickly  maturing  plants  among  my  fields  of 
grain.  By  hand  selection  I  began  to  improve  the 
standard  varieties.  By  use  of  head-row  plots  I 
was  able  to  provide  myself  with  a  purer  seed.  But 
it  took  a  great  deal  of  time.  My  neighbours  be- 
gan to  surpass  me  in  quantity  of  yield.  Eventually 
they  regarded  me  as  luny.  At  last  only  Kitty  and 
Ned  believed  in  me.  They  never  failed  me.  They 
became  experts  in  seed  selection.  They  helped  me 
with  their  sympathy.  Together  we  made  thou- 
sands of  tests.  Gradually  we  caught  our  feet. 
One  year  we  started  cutting  a  full  week  ahead  of 
the  settlement.  We  had  escaped  the  rust  and 
showed  a  plump  sample.  We  were  alone  in  our 


THE  DREAMER  115 

good  fortune.  From  that  time  we  were  the  first 
into  the  binding,  our  yield  was  at  the  top,  and  un- 
der Ned's  wise  management  our  quantity  began 
to  pull  ahead,  always  showing  a  consistently  high 
sample. 

"  It  is  four  years  this  harvest  that  Kitty  and  the 
lad  went  out  on  a  *  roguing '  stalk.  Perhaps  you 
do  not  know  that  a  '  rogue '  is  a  foreign  variety  of 
grain  that  has  appeared  for  some  reason  in  your 
field.  The  task  of  plucking  these  *  rogues '  is 
called  '  roguing.'  Upon  their  return  the  mother 
handed  to  me  a  headed  plant  of  wheat  carefully 
lifted  from  the  ground.  How  well  I  remember 
it !  She  gave  it  into  my  hands  with  a  smile. 

"  '  Here,  Edward ! '  she  said  brightly.  '  Here  is 
your  Red  Knight  at  last.  I  found  him  growing  in 
the  twenty  acre  field  on  the  little  knoll.' 

"  I  took  the  plant  and  carefully  examined  it 
The  straw  was  strong  and  erect,  the  roots  the  most 
perfect  I  had  ever  looked  upon.  But  it  was  the 
head  that  caught  my  eye,  as  it  had  caught  Kitty's 
and  Ned's.  It  was  not  exceptionally  large  but  well 
compacted  and  heavy,  its  spikelets  packed  with 
wonderful  kernels.  We  were  not  led  into  fond 
hopes  by  the  remarkable  heads,  as  we  had  tested 
many  another  apparently  as  perfect." 

Here  the  old  man  paused,  lost  a  moment  in 
reverie. 

"  That  winter  the  Mother  died,"  resumed  he 
softly.  "  But  she  left  a  legacy  (hat  will  forever 


116  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

bless  mankind.  We  carried  out  our  tests.  We 
have  put  The  Red  Knight  through  every  conceiv- 
able trial  and  it  remains  pure,  repeating  its  superior 
qualities  each  harvest.  It  is  of  the  highest  mill- 
ing grade,  grows  a  strong  straw  and  erect,  com- 
pact head,  maturing  three  full  weeks  before  any 
other  wheat.  This  tub  is  filled  from  our  head- 
row  plots  with  the  very  purest  Red  Knight.  In 
addition  Ned  has  already  cut  and  threshed  a  five 
acre  field.  The  yield  has  been  true  to  promise 
and  will  astonish  the  world.  Red  Knight,  the  gift 
to  the  world  of  Kitty  Belaire,  has  averaged  this 
year  over  one  hundred  bushels  to  the  acre." 

As  the  old  man  finished  a  deep  silence  fell  on 
them,  broken  at  length  by  Mary.  At  the  first  ac- 
cents of  her  voice  her  companion  looked  up.  He 
was  surprised  to  see  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"Mr.  Pullar!"  she  said  hesitantly,  her  voice 
touched  with  awe.  "  You  and  Ned  and — his 
mother  a>re — gracious  'benefactors.  You  are 
bringing  a  wonderful  boon  to  the  West — to  the 
whole  world." 

Leaning  forward  the  old  man  looked  eagerly 
into  the  earnest  eyes  before  him. 

"Ah,  lassie,"  he  said  kindly,  "you  are  a  won- 
derful little  soul.  You  are  seeing  deep  into  this 
thing,  God  bless  you.  'Tis  a  vision  the  three  of 
us  have  had.  The  Red  Knight  will  mean  a  steady 
and  reliable  living  for  the  farmers  round  about 
us  and  a  sure  crop  for  the  struggling  pioneer  in 


THE  DKEAMEB  117 

the  new  places  of  the  world.  It  will  mean  that  a 
million  homesteads  will  spring  up  in  the  great 
Northern  plains  where  men  could  scarcely  live  be- 
cause of  the  rust  and  frost.  It  will  fill  up  the 
bread-basket  of  the  world  and  make  cheaper  food 
for  the  hard-pressed  masses,  for  The  Red  Knight 
will  push  the  grain  belt  three  hundred  miles  nearer 
to  the  poles  the  whole  world  round." 

"Just  a  moment,  Mr.  Pullar!"  exclaimed  Mary, 
seized  by  a  brilliant  idea.  "  I've  got  it !  I  believe 
every  word  you  say.  It  is  true.  Gloriously  true ! 
But  the  world  will  have  to  hear  about  it.  It  will 
take  time  to  marshall  the  forces  of  The  Red 
Knight  and  start  him  on  his  great  crusade.  You 
will  have  to  declare  him  to  the  world.  The 
discovery  and  mission  of  this  wonderful  new 
wheat  must  be  placed  before  the  public,  and  at 
once." 

"Ah,"  said  he,  "you  speak  the  truth.  Ned 
and  I  have  thought  it  over,  but  we  have  no  gift  of 
the  pen  whatever." 

Another  deep  silence  fell  over  them.  It  was 
Mary  who  broke  it  once  more. 

"  Do  you  think,  Mr.  Pullar,"  she  said  diffi- 
dently, "  that — that  I  could  help  you  ?  I  have 
done  a  little  writing.  We  could  get  the  facts  into 
shape  and  some  editor  could  put  them  in  form  for 
presentation  to  the  public." 

The  old  man  looked  at  her  with  eyes  in  which 
glowed  a  grateful  wonder. 


118  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

"  You  believe  my  story  enough  to  do  that, 
lassie  ?  " 

"  Why,  of  course !  It  is  simply  wonderful ! 
Come  over  to  the  school  each  day  at  noon  and  we 
can  work  at  the  tale  of  The  Red  Knight  while  the 
children  are  playing.  An  hour  a  day  will  accom- 
plish a  great  deal  in  a  month.  Will  you  come  ?  " 

Her  companion  reflected  deeply  before  replying. 

"  It  is  a  noble  offer,"  he  said  gratefully.  "  But 
I  will  think  it  over.  If  I  decide  it  is  best  I  will 
come  to-morrow." 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Pullar !  "  was  the  pleased  re- 
ply. "  This  has  been  an  amazing  hour.  But  I 
must  be  going.  You  will  be  sure  and  come  ?  " 

Waving  good-bye  she  vanished  through  the 
trees. 

For  a  long  time  the  man  reflected  on  the  happy 
interview.  At  length  he  returned  to  the  sack  of 
unthreshed  wheat.  Picking  up  the  flail  he  held  it 
poised  ready  while  his  gaze  grew  pathetically  remi- 
niscent. 

"  Ah,  Kitty,"  he  whispered.  "  'Tis  an  angel  she 
is.  Our  dreams  will  come  true  after  all,  dear 
heart." 


XI 

THE  THIRD  RIDER 

MARGARET  GRANT  paced  the  terrace, 
her  black  hair  flowing  in  the  wind. 
The  sun  flooded  the  Valley  with  a 
prodigal  outpouring  of  his  golden  tanks.  The 
girl's  eyes  snapped  with  the  vivacity  of  life,  for 
the  world  was  streaming  with  light  and  the  birds 
were  carolling  in  joyous  abandon.  Something  in 
the  bubbling  wildness  of  the  morning  lent  a  nim- 
bleness  to  her  feet,  and  she  would  change  her  se- 
date walk  for  a  tripping  scurry  across  the  lawn. 
She  cast  frequent  glances  over  the  gorge  to  the 
Peak  of  the  Buffalo  Trails  in  evident  anticipation 
of  some  appearance  there.  While  she  waited  she 
let  her  eyes  sweep  down  the  Valley,  her  heart  and 
ofttimes  her  feet  dancing  with  the  sun. 

Margaret  was  a  child  of  The  Qu'Appelle.  The 
gleaming  valley  had  nursed  her  through  child- 
hood, writing  the  beauty  of  hill  and  stream  and 
wind  and  sun  into  the  little  girl,  making  her  skin 
as  brown  as  that  of  the  metis  maiden,  her  blood 
warm  and  red  and  her  soul  free  with  the  purity  of 
the  flashing  light.  She  loved  the  cottonwoods  and 
the  poplars  and  the  clustering,  glistening  birch, 

119 


120  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

while  the  oak  and  willow  folk  cast  a  spell  over  her. 
She  knew  the  berry  and  cherry  trees  and  the  sun- 
steeped  slopes  where  browned  the  sweetest  hazel- 
nuts.  Ask  her  where  coquettes  the  wine-black 
saskatoon  or  the  wonder  berry — and  she  can  tell. 
As  for  the  flowers,  the  bees  and  Margaret  were 
twin  possessors.  Equally  dear  were  the  people  of 
feather  and  fur. 

The  lake  was  a  fascinating,  joyous  mystery, 
whether  it  lay  under  her  eyes  a  thing  of  shimmer- 
ing light  or  frowning  shadows.  Its  magic  swept 
her  most  powerfully.  In  the  moments  of  its  hush, 
when  it  became  a  great  calm  silence,  rippleless  and 
infinitely  deep,  a  new  vastness  with  its  own  blue 
sky  and  clouds  and  shapely  hills. 

Far  out  in  the  lake  lay  a  tiny  island  tufted  with 
cottotiwood  shrubs  and  one  ragged  scrub  oak. 
This  tree  had  grown  out  of  a  crevice  in  the  rock. 
The  island  was  nothing  more  than  a  huge  boulder 
and  the  bower  of  cottonwoods  and  bit  of  turf  held 
precariously  to  the  smoothed  surface.  Here  the 
girl  enjoyed  the  dulcet  music  of  the  waves  and  the 
solitude,  reaching  the  island  easily  by  aid  of  her 
birch  canoe.  From  its  behaviour  in  time  of  tem- 
pest this  lonely  spot  had  received  the  name  of  The 
Storm  Rock.  Long  before  the  waves  had  worked 
into  rollers  an  angry  cloud  of  white  spray  above 
the  rock  portended  the  fury  of  the  storm. 

Suddenly  the  girl  paused  in  her  walk  and  fast- 
ened her  eyes  on  the  Peak  of  the  Buffalo  Trails. 


THE  THIRD  EIDEE  121 

A  glimmer  of  white  crowned  the  Peak.  She  gave 
an  exclamation  of  delight  as  she  defined  the  form 
of  Bobs.  Astride  was  Mary  McClure.  A  signal 
passed  between  the  girls.  Turning  slightly,  Mar- 
garet swept  the  north  bank  with  a  keen  glance, 
emitting  another  ejaculation  as  she  saw  a  rider 
cantering  along  the  shoulder  of  the  hill  making  his 
way  down  into  the  valley. 

"  Ned ! "  she  observed,  with  a  droll  tip  of  her 
head.  "  You  are  remarkably  punctual,  my  fine 
fellow.  You  need  not  push  Darkey  so  fast,  how- 
ever, for  Flash  and  I  are  going  to  take  a  very  con- 
siderable time  to  saddle  up." 

Turning  about,  she  glanced  up  at  the  Peak 
again.  Bobs  and  his  rider  had  disappeared.  As 
she  continued  to  look  at  the  empty  summit  she  was 
surprised  to  see  another  rider  trot  out  on  the  hill. 
It  was  a  man,  and  he  halted  his  horse  in  the  iden- 
tical place  where  Mary  had  sat  Bobs  but  a  moment 
before.  He  looked  over  the  valley  toward  the 
Grant  homestead,  then  turning,  vanished  hur- 
riedly down  the  hill. 

The  watcher  was  at  a  loss  to  account  for  the 
appearance  of  the  strange  rider.  She  pondered  a 
moment. 

"  One  of  Blythes'  cow-punchers!  "  was  her  con- 
clusion. "  He  is  probably  beating  up  strays." 

Satisfied  and  relieved  at  her  surmise  she  ran 
into  the  house  to  prepare  for  the  ride  to  Willow 
Glade. 


122  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

Ned  rode  swiftly  along,  skirting  the  lake  about 
the  Pellawa  end.  He  had  an  hour  of  fast  riding 
before  he  at  length  disappeared  into  the  groves 
near  the  brook.  As  he  broke  into  the  Glade  he 
saw  Bobs  tied  to  a  tree  and  his  mistress  seated  on 
the  log  beside  the  stream. 

"  Ho,  ho!  Darkey!  "  he  cried  softly.  "  High 
fortune  is  ours !  " 

Bobs  tossed  his  head  in  equine  friendliness,  but 
the  figure  on  the  log  was  absorbed  in  a  study  of 
the  tree-tops.  Tying  his  horse,  Ned  stole  up  on 
the  silent  one. 

"  Room  for  another  on  the  observation  car  ?  " 
called  Ned  in  her  ear. 

With  a  casual  "  Good-day,  Ned ! "  she  glanced 
into  his  eyes.  Her  face  was  so  irresistibly  teasing 
that  he  seized  her  hands. 

"  I  am  welcome,  Mary  ?  "  said  he. 

Her  reply  was  smothered  by  his  lips.  When 
conditions  had  become  normal  once  more  she  an- 
nounced importantly: 

"  I  came  here  to-day,  Ned,  with  the  deliberate 
purpose  of  having  an  interview  with  you." 

"  That  is  delightfully  gratifying,"  was  the  reply. 
"  But  since  I  know  the  lady  so  well  I  fear  there  is 
another  reason  forthcoming." 

"  We  are  to  have  a  chaperon,"  resumed  Mary. 
"  I  signalled  Margaret  from  the  Peak  of  the  Buf- 
falo Trails.  She  will  be  here — within — an  hour 
or  two.  Flash  has  taken  to  loitering,  I  fear." 


THE  THIED  EIDEE  123 

"  Yes,  we  know  what  a  sleepy  nag  Flash  can  be 
when  Margaret  has  so  made  up  her  mind." 

"  You  speak  as  though  there  is  a  little  plot  on 
foot." 

"  Rather  on  four  feet,  Mary." 

Catching  his  eye  Mary  laughed. 

"  But  there  is  another  reason  ?  "  was  his  serious 
question.  "Are  you  in  trouble,  Mary?  " 

"  No,"  was  her  reply.  "  I  am  deeply  interested 
in  some  one  other  than  Mr.  Pullar,  Jr.  And  also 
in  a  number  of  things — the  Red  Knight,  for  ex- 
ample. Why  have  you  not  come  over  to  the 
school  sometimes  with  your  father?  " 

He  looked  into  her  eyes  with  a  frankness  that 
satisfied  her.  She  nodded  comprehendingly. 

"  You  did  right,"  said  she  gently.  "  We  agree 
that  it  was  best.  But  I  have  wanted  to  consult 
you  about  the  Red  Knight.  I  think  it  is  such  a 
big,  wonderful  thing,  and  it  means  so  much  to 
your  father.  Do  you " 

Further  speech  was  suddenly  interrupted  by  a 
commotion  in  the  woods.  Bobs  gave  a  vigorous 
whinny  to  which  Darkey  responded  in  a  half- 
frightened  way  while  both  horses  moved  restively 
about  their  trees,  nostrils  distended  and  ears 
pricked  forward. 

"What  can  be  troubling  the  horses?"  said 
Mary  looking  about. 

A  careful  scrutiny  of  the  trees  and  underbrush 
failed  to  discover  anything  unusual. 


124  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

"  Probably  a  fox  or  a  wolf,"  surmised  Ned. 
"  The  brute  was  bold  to  come  so  near.  The  horses 
have  become  aware  of  some  marauder." 

They  let  it  go  at  that,  little  thinking  that  the 
horses  had  a  surprising  reason  for  their  unrest 
For  five  minutes  past  a  shadow  had  been  slipping 
through  the  dense  growth  running  toward  the 
lake  and  had  chanced  a  flit  of  a  half  dozen  yards 
in  the  open  to  a  clump  of  willows  within  a  rod  of 
the  log  on  which  they  sat.  Screened  in  the  low 
trees  lurked  the  crouching  figure  of  Reddy  Sykes. 
It  was  a  fox,  indeed,  a  human  fox  that  had  agi- 
tated Bobs  and  his  companion.  The  face  of  the 
agent  was  uncouth  in  its  strange  determination 
and  jealousy.  Waiting  until  quiet  was  restored 
he  parted  the  leaves  and  took  a  glance  at  the  ob- 
jects of  his  bold  espionage.  At  sight  of  the  lovers 
his  face  went  white  and  a  wave  of  passion  swept 
over  him.  As  Mary  resumed  the  conversation  he 
listened  with  an  eagerness  wild  and  intense. 

"I  was  saying,"  said  Mary,  "that  The  Red 
Knight  has  a  powerful  interest  for  your  father." 

"  I  am  sure  you  discovered  that  easily,"  re- 
turned Ned. 

"  Yes.  It  is  as  dear  to  him  as  life  itself.  No 
mother  could  lavish  more  fondness  upon  her  babe 
than  your  father  does  upon  this  marvellous  new 
wheat." 

"  And  because  it  means  so  much  to  Dad,"  said 
Ned  gently,  "  it  means  even  more  to  me.  Yet  I, 


THE  THIKD  EIDEE  125 

too,  am  foolish  over  The  Red  Knight.  I  wonder 
can  any  one  understand  how  it  is  that  the  roots 
of  this  plant  .go  back  so  deep  into  the  lives  of  Dad 
and  me?  It  has  grown  out  of  the  hard,  glorious 
years.  It  is  the  one  living  thing  linking  our  dear 
dead  to  us.  Mary !  It  is  my  little  mother's  forget- 
me-not.  The  tenderest  sentiment  gathers  about 
The  Red  Knight." 

Mary  laid  her  hand  gently  on  his  arm. 

"  Ned,"  she  said,  looking  at  him  with  the  shine 
of  dew  in  her  eyes,  "  you  will  always  foster  this 
dear  foolishness,  will  you  not  ?  " 

Drawing  her  to  him  he  kissed  lips  and  cheeks 
and  hair. 

"  I  know  you  will,"  was  her  glad  cry. 

"  But  there  is  the  other  side,"  said  Ned  in  a  lit- 
tle. "  The  Red  Knight  is  as  astonishing  a  dis- 
covery for  the  good  of  the  world  as  was  steam  in 
its  application  to  transportation  and  industry. 
This  is  how  Dad  views  it.  Like  the  discovery  of 
a  new  element  it  should  be  retained  for  the  com- 
mon human  good.  If  controlled  by  the  commer- 
cial interests  and  monopolists  it  will  be  lost.  The 
Red  Knight  needs  the  care  of  the  keenest  and  sur- 
est cultural  science  as  well  as  the  protection  of  a 
wise  government.  This  new  variety  of  wheat  is 
very  precious  now  or  will  be  when  the  great  ex- 
perts have  repeated  the  tests  put  through  by  Dad 
and  myself.  By  spring,  should  our  own  experi- 
ments satisfy  the  competent  judges,  every  bushel 


126  THE  YALLEY  OF  GOLD 

of  Red  Knight  would  be  worth  one  hundred 
dollars.  Forty  thousand  dollars!  It  sounds 
fabulous  to  farmers  who  have  spent  a  life- 
time in  the  fight  to  catch  their  feet.  Dad, 
however,  will  not  sell  it  in  that  way.  He  in- 
tends to  distribute  his  unique  seed  in  such  a  way 
as  to  insure  its  preservation  and  reproduction. 
Each  bushel  will  go  to  a  source  that  meets  with  his 
entire  approval.  Some  will  pay  the  hundred  dol- 
lars per  bushel,  not  that  a  monopolist's  price  may 
be  realized  but  that  the  recipient  may  be  impressed 
with  the  rare  pricelessness  of  The  Red  Knight. 
Others  will  pay  but  a  pittance.  The  great  national 
farms  will  not  be  overlooked.  It  is  Dad's  purpose 
that  when  harvest  rolls  round  again  there  will  be 
from  thirty  to  forty  thousand  bushels  of  Red 
Knight  in  the  hands  of  the  National  Government 
and  a  corps  of  splendid  farmers.  They  will  agree 
to  keep  Red  Knight  pure  and  further  improve  his 
singular  qualities  by  faithful  selection  and  experi- 
ment." 

As  Ned  finished  speaking  a  deep  silence  fell  on 
them,  broken  at  length  by  Mary. 

"  That  four  hundred  bushels  of  Red  Knight  is 
precious  in  many  ways,  Ned,"  said  she.  '  You 
have  taken  precaution  to  protect  it  from  harm  ?  " 

"  We  are  doing  our  best  to  avoid  misfortune. 
We  have  broken  the  bin  up  into  three.  There  are 
two  hundred  bushels  in  the  house;  we  have  one 
hundred  in  the  big  granary  and  the  balance  is  iso- 


THE  THIED  EIDEE  127 

lated  in  one  of  our  galvanized-iron,  portable  bins 
set  in  the  centre  of  a  large  ploughed  field.  This 
should  provide  for  the  preservation  of  The  Red 
Knight." 

They  had  fully  discussed  the  scheme  of  launch- 
ing the  astounding  fact  of  the  discovered  variety 
when  Margaret  Grant  dashed  into  the  glade  with 
a  shout  and  a  clatter  of  hoofs. 

"  Greetings,  kind  friends !  "  she  announced  with 
a  swagger.  "  Permit  Flash,  four-footed  gentle- 
man of  the  highroad,  to  join  your  sweet  company 
with  Gooseberry  up." 

"  To  horse !  "  cried  Ned,  catching  the  conceit  of 
the  girl.  "  To  horse !  We  ride  with  the  gallant 
Goose!" 

"  The  very  thing !  "  laughed  Mary. 

Riding  close  Margaret  struck  vengefully.  But 
Ned  dodged  and  assisting  Mary  into  the  saddle 
swung  up  on  Darkey  and  the  laughing  cavalcade 
rode  out  of  the  glade. 

From  his  covert  Reddy  Sykes  saw  them  depart. 
Waiting  until  he  was  sure  they  were  safely  away 
he  returned  to  his  horse  and  mounting  rode  hastily 
back  to  Pellawa. 


XII 
ANYTHING  IS  FAIR  IN  LOVE    .    .    . 

THE   troop   of   three  were   retracing  the 
course  followed  by  Ned  in  his  ride  to  the 
Glade.     Trotting  along  the  wet  sand  at 
the  water's  edge  they  had  rounded  the  Pellawa  end 
of  the  lake  and  were  hugging  the  north  shore, 
riding  into  the  west  at  a  spanking  gait  when  Ned 
suddenly  pulled  Darkey  and  pointed  up  the  sheer 
hill.     A  black  speck  was  moving  along  the  sum- 
mit far  above. 

"  Margaret !  Behold !  "  was  Ned's  laughing 
shout. 

The  girls  reined  in  abruptly  and  followed  his 
hand. 

"  It  is  Andy !  "  cried  Mary  gaily.  "  I  see  where 
we  lose  our  Gooseberry,  promptly  and  automat- 
ically." 

As  she  uttered  the  words  a  shout  floated  down 
from  the  silhouette  above  and  the  rider  sent  his 
mount  over  the  bank.  The  brave  brute  took  the 
precipice  with  a  sure  nonchalance,  sliding  on  all 
fours  or  "  sitting "  the  perpendicular  slides  with 
swift  and  perilous  drop. 

"  Lucifer  hits  the  toboggan !  "  cried  Ned. 
128 


ANYTHING  IS  FAIE  IN  LOVE          129 

"  The  magnificent  dare-devils ! "  exclaimed 
Mary,  thrilled  by  the  sight.  In  a  moment  it  was 
over  and  Andy  closed  in  upon  them  at  a  smart 
trot,  reining  his  horse  on  his  heels  but  a  length  be- 
fore them. 

"  A  mighty  fine  slide !  "  applauded  Ned. 

"  Margaret  can't  peep,"  teased  Mary.  "  Her 
heart's  in  her  mouth." 

Margaret  acknowledged  the  newcomer  with  a 
sedate  bow.  Her  voice  was  severely  accusing  as 
she  said: 

"  Why  do  you  find  it  necessary  to  skid  that  hor- 
rible hill  on  poor  Night?  " 

"  Just  dropping  into  good  company,  Margaret," 
was  the  bright  reply.  "  Night  likes  it." 

"  Very  well !  You  are  welcome  to — the  skid- 
ding," was  the  demure  impertinence. 

She  turned  from  him  to  glance  over  the  lake. 
Had  Andy  caught  her  eyes  he  would  have  seen 
deep  down  in  their  dark  depths  a  gleam  of  exquis- 
ite pleasure.  Good  riding,  and  daring  at  that, 
could  not  fail  to  delight  Margaret,  and  of  this  the 
wily  Andy  was  well  aware.  A  moment  later  he 
was  enjoying  her  gay  sallies  as  they  rode  side  by 
side. 

The  four  riders  advanced  abreast  with  the  girls 
in  the  centre,  the  sound  of  their  voices  mingling 
with  the  champing  of  bits  and  the  restless  tramp- 
ing of  prancing  hoofs.  Suddenly,  to  their  right, 
a  gully  opened  up,  winding  its  way  into  the  hills. 


130  THE  VALLEY  OP  GOLD 

Andy  caught  Ned's  eye  flashing  him  some  signifi- 
cant message.  Ned  instantly  realized  his  intention 
and  seizing  Bobs'  bridle  turned  abruptly  into  the 
gully.  In  the  meantime  Andy  had  adroitly  di- 
rected Margaret's  attention  to  a  big  loon  basking 
in  the  water  near  the  shore.  They  were  well  past 
the  gully  before  she  discovered  that  two  of  the 
party  were  missing.  She  halted  Flash  and  looked 
blankly  at  Andy.  With  remarkable  address  he 
simulated  her  expression.  She  searched  his  non- 
plussed features  critically,  passing  their  fluctua- 
tions through  her  mental  sieve. 

"  Two  is  company ! "  ejaculated  Andy,  shrug- 
ging his  shoulders  and  looking  back  upon  the 
empty  trail. 

"  And  three  a  crowd !  "  supplemented  Margaret. 

"  And  four  a  multitude ! "  completed  Andy,  a 
tone  of  satisfaction  betraying  him. 

Margaret  tipped  her  head  a  trifle  haughtily  and 
looked  thoughtfully  out  over  the  lake. 

"  We  have  good  company  here,  at  any  rate," 
ventured  Andy. 

Again  Margaret  gave  him  that  searching  glance. 
For  a  moment  she  studied  him,  then  the  glimmers 
of  a  whimsical  mischief  shone  in  her  eyes  and 
throwing  back  her  head  she  laughed  merrily. 

"  What  transparent  creatures  you  men  are ! " 
was  her  naive  remark.  "  Obviously  you  and  Ned 
arranged  this  sudden  and  innocent  happening." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  "  challenged  Andy  boldly. 


ANYTHING  IS  FAIE  IN  LOVE         131 

"  How  very  like  a  man !  "  she  cried,  laughing 
quietly.  "  There  you  go  confessing  it.  How  do 
I  know?  Simply  because  Mary  and  I  did  not  ar- 
range it.  It  just  happened.  And  Mary!  I  won- 
der. Was  Mary  kidnapped  or  is  she  an  accom- 
plice deep-dyed  in  guilt  ?  Never  mind.  There's  a 
loon  on  the  water  and  two  more  on  the  shore. 
We'll  go  ahead  to  the  Big  Stone  and  wait  for 
them." 

So  came  Andy's  opportunity,  effected  by  his 
masterly  strategy  and  the  conniving  Ned. 

Their  horses  secured,  they  took  seats  in  com- 
fortable niches  of  the  great  stones  and  let  their 
gaze  sweep  over  the  lake.  A  steady  breeze  fanned 
their  faces  and  the  water  lapped  musically  about 
the  base  of  the  rock.  It  set  Margaret  musing. 

"  Do  you  hear  it,  Andy  ?  "  she  cried.  "  I  could 
stay  here  forever  and  dream  of  the  sea.  The  sea 
is  in  my  blood  and — my  heart, — always  in  my 
heart.  I  have  but  to  shut  my  eyes  and  I  am  a  wild, 
free  Norse-girl  tossing  on  the  deep,  or — a  bold 
pirate." 

"  Pirate  is  better,"  said  Andy  with  a  grin. 
"You  are  always  stealing  something  from  me — 
secrets  and  other  things.  These  dead  Norse 
maidens  appear  to  better  advantage  these  days 
among  the  zoological  collections  of  infamous  old 
bones  in  famous  old  museums." 

Margaret  looked  up  severe  and  shocked. 

"  Thank  you !  "  said  she  with  dignity.     "  You. 


132  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

have  an  affectionate  regard  for  my  ancient  ances- 
tors." 

"  None  whatever !  "  retorted  Andy.  "  Not  a  lit- 
tle bit.  They  are  animals  of  another  and  stonier 
age.  Give  me  a  nice  living  girl  with  plenty  of 
breath  in  her  body  and  a  soft  heart, — one  with  a 
laugh  in  her  eyes  and  her  soul,  who  can  loll  com- 
fortably on  a  rock  and  revel  dreamily  in  sheer 
langour  and  laziness ;  a  girl  for  instance  like  Mar- 
garet Grant." 

"  You  don't  like  me  when  I'm  poetic — rapt." 

"  Don't  I  ?  How  like  a  woman !  You  want  me 
to  confess  that  I  am  mad  about  you.  But  I  will 
not,  for  I  am  not — not  the  very  slightest." 

Margaret  glanced  up  curiously,  a  smile  playing 
about  her  lips. 

"  The  fact  is,  Margaret,"  continued  Andy,  "  I 
do  like  you — just  you,  in  any  mood,  at  any  time 
and  on  any  condition.  It  is  not  a  foolish,  mad  re- 
gard; just  a  cool,  composed,  deliberate  but  fatal, 
tremendously  fatal  affection." 

"  Why  fatal,  Andy?    I  don't  like  the  word." 

"  Take  a  look  at  me.  Can  you  not  see  doom 
written  all  over  me  ?  " 

Margaret  looked.  Their  eyes  met.  She  smiled 
whimsically. 

"  You  look  for  all  the  world  like  a  Norseman 
ready  for  Valhalla.  But  you  are  a  very  live  and 
hopeful  and  preposterous  Yellow-hair.  In  what 
way  am  I  connected  with  this  horrible  doom  ?  " 


ANYTHING  IS  FAIR  IN  LOVE          133 

"  You  are  the  wild  Norse  girl  that  has  demented 
your  Norseman." 

"  Then  you  are  mad  after  all  ?  " 

Again  their  eyes  met.  A  unique  confusion  lay 
behind  the  light  in  the  man's;  something  inscru- 
table behind  the  humorous  banter  in  the  girl's. 
Yet  it  was  a  happy  unembarrassed  moment.  Andy 
seized  it. 

"  Margaret,"  he  said,  rising  and  stepping  toward 
her.  "  You  guessed  my  artifice  all  right.  I  alone 
am  to  blame  for  sending  Ned  and  Mary  up  the 
gully.  There  was  no  plot,  only  on  my  part.  I 
decided  that  we  must  come  to  a  clear  understand- 
ing. Lately  I  have  had  hours  of  anxious  reflec- 
tion. I  wanted  to  see  you  alone  to-day.  Do  you 
think  you  love  me,  Margaret?  " 

The  girl  turned  frank,  open  eyes  upon  him,  all 
levity  gone.  There  was  something  looking  out  of 
his  eyes  that  made  her  tremble.  A  deep  serious- 
ness stole  over  her  face.  Slowly  she  averted  her 
gaze,  looking  out  into  the  lake.  For  a  long  time 
she  was  silent.  Then  she  said  gently: 

"  I  love  no  one  else,  Andy.  But — I — I  cannot 
answer  your  question.  I  know  you  love  me.  I 
am  not  sure  that  I  love  you.  Do  I  love  you  ?  I — 
I  cannot  say.  Perhaps  I  do.  I  have  always 
thought  I  did.  It  may  be  true.  It  may  all  have 
come  about  in  a  way  so  gradual,  so  natural,  so  or- 
dinary that  I  am  confused.  I  cannot  answer  you 
— now.  I  do  not  know.  Something  will  help  us." 


134  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

Looking  up  she  met  his  eyes.  They  were  full 
of  trouble.  A  wave  of  compunction  swept  over 
her.  Holding  out  her  hands  she  leaned  toward 
him. 

"  Come,"  she  said  simply,  "  you  may  kiss  me, 
Andy.  I  love  your  kisses." 

"  How  I  would  like  to,"  was  his  quiet  return  as 
he  fought  the  temptation.  "  But  I  cannot.  It 
would  not  be  right.  You  have  a  tender  heart, 
Margaret.  I  love  you  ever  so  much  more  in  the 
last  few  moments.  I  shall  wait  for  the  right  to 
kiss  you.  Perhaps  it  will  come." 

The  girl  looked  up  surprised,  a  faint  flush  dye- 
ing her  face.  Their  attachment  had  obtained  for 
years  and  since  the  engagement  two  years  before 
they  had  enjoyed  the  sweet  amenities  of  true 
lovers.  A  pang  smote  her  as  she  realized  that  he 
was  right. 

Upon  riding  back  they  discovered  the  delinquent 
couple  enjoying  the  shade  of  a  giant  oak  just  be- 
yond the  entrance  to  the  gully.  Joining  forces  the 
troop  rode  homeward. 


XIII 
THE  RED  KNIGHT  SCORES 

THE  air  was  full  of  the  merry  laughter  of 
children.  It  was  the  hour  of  noon  and 
Mary  McClure  was  busy  placing  some 
afternoon  work  upon  the  blackboard.  A  sound  on 
the  porch  caused  her  to  hold  her  flying  hand.  In 
a  little  there  was  a  rap  at  the  door  and  a  giant 
form  stepped  in. 

"  Good-day,  lassie,"  said  the  deep  voice  of  Ed. 
Pullar. 

"Well,  Mr.  Pullar!"  was  the  girl's  cordial 
greeting  as  she  turned  toward  him.  "  How  glad 
I  am  to  see  you.  Have  you  news  of  The  Red 
Knight?" 

The  venerable  face  was  wreathed  in  smiles. 
The  happiness  boded  good  tidings. 

Bowing  with  cavalier  grace  he  replied: 

"  Here  is  the  communication.  I  want  you  to 
read  it,  lassie." 

Stepping  lightly  to  him  she  took  the  sheet  and 
pored  over  it  swiftly.  Its  contents  were  of  ex- 
treme interest  to  her.  It  ran: 


136  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

DEAR  SIR: 

Doubtless  you  have  received  my  letter  ac- 
knowledging the  safe  arrival  of  your  packages  of 
Red  Knight.  The  tests  are  proceeding  apace  and 
already  we  are  able  to  report  results  that  may  be 
of  far-reaching  import  to  the  grain  growers  of  the 
WORLD.  They  will  assuredly  be  gratifying  to  you. 

Your  samples  have  been  subjected  to  an  exhaust- 
ive series  of  milling  tests,  disclosing  the  presence 
in  Red  Knight  of  ASTONISHING  MILLING  PROPER- 
TIES. 

Also,  we  have  studied  carefully  your  very  com- 
plete history  of  the  discovery  and  isolation  of  the 
new  variety  and  find  that  throughout  the  germi- 
nation tests  up  to  the  present  stage,  our  observa- 
tions have  resulted  in  a  remarkable  parallel  of 
your  own  record. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  nineteenth  we  are  hold- 
ing a  Staff  Conference  to  consult  on  the  phases  of 
Red  Knight,  referred  to  above,  with  a  view  to 
consider  the  speeding  up  of  test  operations.  The 
imminency  of  the  ensuing  seed-time  demands  this 
if  we  are  to  launch  comprehensive  field  tests  in 

ALL  OUR  NATIONAL  FARMS. 

At  the  close  of  the  Conference  an  informal 
luncheon  will  be  tendered  to  the  DISCOVERERS  of 
THE  RED  KNIGHT.  We  request  the  presence  of 
yourself  and  your  son  as  the  honourable  guests  of 
the  occasion. 

I  have  the  honour  to  be,  sir, 

Your  obedient  servant, 
JOHN  T.  C.  NORRGRENE, 
Minister  of  Agriculture. 

As  she  finished  Mary  clasped  the  letter  to  her 


THE  BED  KNIGHT  SCORES  137 

breast,  lost  in  a  moment's  pensiveness.  Then  she 
lifted  to  the  earnest  face  above  her  eyes  aglow 
with  a  brimming  pleasure. 

"  You  will  go,  Mr.  Pullar !  "  she  cried  delight- 
edly. "  You  will  go,  of  course,  both  you  and 
Ned." 

"  Yes,  I  will  go,"  was  the  quiet  reply.  "  I  have 
no  desire  now  to  tramp  abroad  but  I  am  going  to 
do  whatever  I  can  to  help  these  great  men  dis- 
cover the  true  character  of  The  Red  Knight.  Ned 
is  coming  with  me.  Dad  Blackford  will  take  care 
of  the  farm.  It  is  a  great  moment  for  Ned  and 
me." 

The  gray  head  lifted  with  a  perceptible  pride. 

"  Mr.  Pullar ! "  she  cried,  stepping  nearer  to 
him.  "Do  I  look  pleased?" 

He  read  the  girl's  face. 

"  Aye !  It  is  so,  lassie.  'Tis  the  bonny  bit  you 
have  been  with  your  bright,  loyal  heart." 

"  I  am  more  than  pleased,"  returned  Mary.  "  I 
am  elated.  It  means  that  your  big,  noble  plans  will 
be  realized.  There  can  be  no  hitch  now.  The  Red 
Knight  is  doing  splendid  work  alone,  but  when 
you  and  Ned  join  forces  with  him  you  will  be  irre- 
sistible. I  see  glorious  times  ahead." 

The  old  man  looked  deep  into  the  eyes  bright 
with  the  magic  of  a  great  hope. 

"  Bonny  Mary !  "  said  he  gently.  "  Bonny 
Mary ! — that  is  what  I  have  been  calling  you  in  my 
secret  mind. — You  have  been  a  right  wonderful 


138  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

blessing  to  me  for  you — you  believe  in  me.  And 
your  beauty  and  tenderness  they  have  been  recall- 
ing the  past  these  happy  hours  in  the  wee  school- 
house.  I  cannot  thank  you " 

"Hush,  Mr.  Pullar!"  was  her  gentle  inter- 
ruption. "  You  cannot  thank  people  for  their — 
their  regard,  for  their — love.  You — you  just  do 
it  too.  You  love  them  back.  Do  you  not  ?  " 

The  naive,  girlish  innocence  touched  him. 
Placing  a  great  hand  gently  on  her  head  he  stooped 
down  and  brushed  her  brow  ever  so  lightly  with 
,his  lips. 

"  God  bless  you,  lassie !  "  was  the  reverent  bene- 
diction. 

\     She  watched  him  go  out,  his  face  beautiful  with 
a  new  light. 

On  the  edge  of  the  clearing  he  halted  and  looked 
back  to  the  school. 

"Aye !  God  bless  you,  lassie !  "  was  his  whisper. 
"  May  He  keep  the  light  o'  laughter  always  in  your 
bonny  eyes !  Always !  " 

The  proud  form  that  vanished  into  the  trees  was 
not  unlike  the  strong  young  Apollo  who  wooed 
the  dainty  Kitty  Belaire.  Old  Ed.  Pullar  was 
putting  up  a  fight,  the  stress  of  which  was  known 
to  only  two.  Ned  realized  it  by  the  insight  of  his 
great  affection;  and  Mary  by  the  tender  intuition 
of  her  woman's  heart. 


XIV 
BEHIND  THE  GREEN  BAIZE  DOOR 

IT  was  December,  but  the  balm  of  the  bright 
days  belied  the  season.  The  fall  had  elon- 
gated into  a  second  springhood  and  save  for 
a  crispness  in  the  evening  air  it  might  have  been 
April.  Then,  with  the  sudden  vagary  of  prairie 
weather,  came  a  change.  It  was  three  days  after 
the  reception  of  the  invitation  to  the  luncheon. 
The  morning  opened  up  with  the  mellow  warmth 
of  Indian  summer.  Ned  Pullar  and  his  father 
carried  their  light  overcoats  upon  their  arms  as 
they  boarded  the  seven-thirty  for  the  long  ride  to 
the  City.  An  hour  later  a  chill  breath  swept  down 
from  the  north  and  winter  was  on.  Before  their 
journey  was  half  completed  the  yellow  and  black 
landscape  had  given  place  to  a  truly  December 
white. 

Winter  assumed  the  reins  of  power  by  the 
grand  inaugural  of  a  considerable  blizzard.  The 
wind  was  not  as  riotous  and  gusty  as  in  the 
dreaded  storm  but  steady  and  cold,  snowing  heav- 
ily and  driving  a  close,  surface  blow.  Night  drew 
down  the  curtain  with  the  temperature  slightly 
lower,  the  breeze  unabated  in  its  mild  steadiness 
and  the  snow  falling  in  a  thickening  sheet.  With 

'39 


140  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

the  stars  blanketed  by  heavy  clouds  and  the  moon 
stark  dead  the  night  was  black.  The  white  cover- 
ing of  snow  made  little  difference  to  the  impene- 
trable pall. 

Pellawa  was  unusually  quiet  though  a  few 
hardy  pedestrians  braved  the  deepening  drifts. 
Louie  Swale's  joint,  however,  boasted  a  small  and 
interesting  crowd.  About  the  bar  were  some  fa- 
miliar faces,  Snoopy  Bill  Baird,  Nick  Ford  and 
other  members  of  McClure's  Gang.  The  Green 
Baize  Door  was  shut.  Two  men  occupied  the 
privacy  of  the  "  Square  Room,"  sitting  on  oppo- 
site sides  of  the  table,  each  with  his  amber-hued 
flask.  Rob  McClure  was  plainly  on  the  defensive, 
withstanding  some  daring  proposition  being  urged 
by  Reddy  Sykes.  Their  frequent  swigs  were  be- 
ginning to  undermine  McClure's  scepticism. 

"  You  think  this  Red  Knight  wheat,  as  you  call 
it,  is  no  hoax,"  said  Rob. 

"  It's  the  real  goods,"  averred  Sykes  positively. 
"  Pullar  has  tested  it  for  four  years  and  the  ex- 
perts in  the  University  have  pronounced  it  O.  K. 
That  is  why  Ned  and  the  old  man  are  toting  into 
the  City.  It  is  good  enough  to  be  valued  by  Ned 
at  one  hundred  dollars  a  bushel.  They  tell  me 
John  T.  C.  Norrgrene  is  interested  in  this  thing 
himself.  This  wheat  is  due  to  cause  a  sensation 
with  the  result  that  Ned  Pullar's  stock  goes  up 
higher  in  the  community  as  well  as  somewhere 
else.  Ned  Pullar's  a  mighty  clever  gink  and  I 


BEHIND  THE  GREEN  BAIZE  DOOE     1    I 

have  a  hunch  that  he  has  nothing  on  his  old  man. 
They've  hit  it  lucky.  The  Red  Knight  is  a  gold 
mine  to  them." 

McClure  scowled. 

"  Grant  that  there's  anything  in  it,  £ow  do  you 
propose  to  get  hold  of  the  wheat?  Four  hundred 
bushels  is  a  big  thing  to  lift." 

"  Easy  when  you  go  about  it  right.  I've  got  it 
whittled  to  a  hair  trigger.  Touch  it  and  away  she 
comes.  You  want  to  clap  your  claws  on  Pullar. 
Here  is  your  chance  to  sink  'em  deep.  That  four 
hundred  bushels  of  Red  Knight  means  more  to 
old  Ed.  Pullar  than  his  farm,  stock  and  the  whole 
works.  He's  doting  on  it.  That  makes  it  mean 
still  more  to  Ned.  Here  is  your  chance  to  hand 
Pullar  and  Son  a  dizzy  one." 

Sykes  paused  a  moment  while  he  took  a  long 
drink.  McClure  pondered  the  proposition  with  a 
face  that  grew  craftier  the  longer  he  simmered. 
His  cogitations  were  suspended  suddenly,  how- 
ever, by  an  innovation  in  the  features  of  his  com- 
panion. The  pull  of  liquor  had  provoked  imme- 
diate result,  altering  Sykes'  countenance  and  caus- 
ing a  sudden  expansion  of  his  confidence.  With 
his  face  overspread  by  a  secretive  leer  he  leaned 
closer  and  whispered: 

"  I  haven't  let  it  loose  before,  Rob,  but  I  have 
red-hot  grudge  against  your  friend  Pullar.  That 
party  has  cut  into  my  trail  three  or  four  times  in 
as  many  years.  We've  locked  horns  before  but  the 


142  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

breaks  went  to  him.  His  luck  takes  a  sag  to-night. 
There  are  three  ways  we  can  beat  him  up.  We 
can  get  him  through  the  old  man  in  the  way  we've 
been  figuring.  This  would  cripple  him  for  fair,  but 
we've  got  to  wait  for  our  chance.  It  will  come. 
The  next  best  bet  is  a  raid  on  The  Red  Knight 
This  thing  is  bigger  than  you  are  reckoning.  Re- 
lieve him  of  this  bunch  of  seed  wheat  and  what 
have  we  done?  We  take  forty  thousand  dollars 
out  of  his  pocket  and  smother  the  one  big  howl  of 
the  old  man's  life.  I  am  for  putting  over  this 
surprise  right  off  the  bat." 

He  paused.     McClure  waited  patiently. 

"  Go  on,"  said  Rob.  "  Give  us  your  third  bul- 
let. It  may  do  the  trick  alone.  What  is  it  ?  " 

At  the  query  Sykes'  face  changed  in  a  manner 
that  surprised  even  his  hardened  colleague.  The 
unscrupulous  plotter  became  a  fiend  repulsively 
malicious.  From  his  eyes  shot  a  jealous  malignity, 
while  upon  every  muscle  of  his  face  outcropped 
the  pure  depravity  of  hate.  The  mask  had  inad- 
vertently slipped.  Instinctively  Sykes  caught  him- 
self and  replaced  it.  As  McClure  continued  to 
search  his  face  he  realized  that  his  companion  was 
wearing  his  usual  inscrutable  smile.  He  could 
scarcely  believe  that  the  fiendish  thing  had  dis- 
closed itself. 

"  Never  mind  number  three,"  said  Sykes. 
"  This  is  not  a  good  time  to  consider  it.  It  will 
be  useful  later." 


BEHIND  THE  GEEEN  BAIZE  DOOR     143 

McClure  looked  at  him  askance.  The  fellow 
possessed  a  knowledge  that  baffled  him.  A  vague 
uneasiness  crept  into  his  mind,  a  premonition 
warning  him  of  the  man.  Sykes  realized  that  he 
had  jeopardized  matters  not  a  little  and  exercised 
all  his  congenial  graces  to  destroy  the  effect  on 
the  mind  of  his  companion.  He  turned  adroitly  to 
levity  and  the  flask  and  very  soon  they  were  on 
the  old  footing  of  boon  companionship. 

"  We  must  get  hold  of  The  Red  Knight,"  said 
McClure,  swinging  suddenly  in  line  under  the  spell 
of  the  odorous  whiskey.  "  And  the  sooner,  the 
better." 

"  To-night !  "  announced  Sykes  with  a  fierce 
shutting  of  his  jaws. 

McClure  looked  surprised. 

"  It's  blowing  a  blizzard,"  was  his  objection. 
"  And  it's  a  good  ten  mile  run." 

"  The  kind  of  night  I  should  select  to  kill  a 
man,"  returned  the  other.  "  I  could  slip  up  to  him 
out  of  the  storm,  pass  him  out  and  drop  into  the 
blizzard  again.  The  snow  would  obligingly  cover 
all  trails.  It  is  now  eight  o'clock.  Bill  Baird  and 
his  men  are  ready,  six  teams  all  told.  They  will 
pull  the  little  raid  at  twelve.  Each  man  will  have 
a  sleigh  with  double  box  and  no  bells.  They  will 
slip  up  the  Valley  along  Pullar's  hay  trail  to  his 
barnyard,  coming  in  from  the  field  instead  of  the 
road.  The  wheat  is  all  located — two  hundred 
bushels  in  the  house,  a  hundred  in  the  granary  and 


144  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

the  balance  in  a  portable  bin  in  the  southeast 
quarter." 

"  But  Blackford  is  at  the  house.  He'll  put  up  a 
scrap.  You  can't  pull  Dad's  leg.  He'll  make  a 
mess  of  it." 

"  We've  arranged  to  put  the  old  bloke  away 
while  the  fun  is  on  and  it  won't  need  any  rough 
work.  Leave  Blackford  to  me." 

"  But  they'll  drop  on  us  instantly  without  a  clue. 
They'll  search  my  farm  and  the  elevators  and 
every  building  in  Pellawa." 

Sykes  threw  back  his  head  in  glee. 

"  You're  late  coming  into  the  game,  Rob. 
That's  the  trouble!"  And  he  poked  the  other 
playfully  on  the  chest.  "  We  are  not  bringing  the 
wheat  in  here.  Oh,  no.  There  is  Old  Hunt's,  the 
Squatter's  shack.  It  is  water  tight  and  drift  tight 
and  has  not  been  used  since  the  old  geezer  kicked 
out  two  years  ago.  The  boys  will  drop  the  stuff 
there  and  we  can  market  it  by  degrees  through  the 
winter.  We'll  hush  up  the  detective  stunt  with  an 
alibi,  an  alibi  that  will  cover  the  honour  of  eight 
good  men.  Here's  the  how.  The  gang's  with 
Louie  now.  When  we  are  ready  they  come  in  here 
for  an  all-night  deal.  Louie  and  the  crowd  see 
them  enter.  We  let  them  out  quietly  through  the 
rear  into  the  dark.  They  sneak  through  the  snow 
and  do  the  job  and  turn  up  here  in  the  wee  sma* 
hours.  Louie  will  not  disturb  the  Square  Room. 
But  he  can  swear  that  we  held  it  for  the  night. 


BEHIND  THE  GEEEN  BAIZE  DOOB     145 

We'll  make  it  worth  his  while.  There  you  are. 
But  the  alibi  will  not  be  needed  at  all.  The  bliz- 
zard will  blind  the  trail  and  pad  the  whole  event 
This  storm  will  cover  over  any  track  in  ten  min- 
utes. It  is  getting  late  and  the  men  are  waiting." 

Sykes  paused  significantly. 

"  Call  them  in,"  said  McClure,  rubbing  his 
hands  in  glee.  "  You  are  a  wonder,  Red !  We'll 
send  them  on  the  smart  hike." 

The  Green  Baize  Door  opened  and  closed  a  few 
minutes  later  on  the  full  gang  of  plotters.  After 
being  put  through  a  detailed  rehearsal  of  Sykes' 
plan  they  drank  a  copious  draft  to  the  success  of 
the  adventure. 

"  This  will  be  a  come-back  on  that  blankety 
Hallowe'en  foul,"  said  Snoopy  Bill  with  an  aveng- 
ing grin.  "  We'll  proceed  to  tap  Pullar  a  little  for 
his  fun." 

The  remark  was  followed  by  a  chorus  of  curses 
that  revealed  the  rankle  of  revenge.  This  motive 
was  the  sleeping  thing  Sykes  had  roused  in  his 
plying  of  the  gang. 

"  You'll  reach  Pullar's  farm  around  twelve," 
concluded  Sykes.  "  A  half-hour  should  see  you 
loaded  for  the  haul  to  Hunt's.  You'll  be  back  here 
by  four.  Come  in  quietly." 

Thus  adjured,  Snoopy  Bill  and  his  men,  steal- 
ing out  through  the  rear,  vanished  into  the  dark- 
ness and  set  off  on  their  expedition. 


XV 
ONE  BLACK  NIGHT 

DAD  BLACKFORD  was  late  in  doing  up 
the  chores,  for  the  snow  had  presented 
him  with  some  unforeseen  problems,  ham- 
pering greatly  the  bedding  and  feeding.  Not  until 
everything  was  snug  from  the  storm  did  he  think 
of  indulging  in  his  evening  solace.  While  dream- 
ing amid  the  blue  circles  of  smoke  there  came  to 
him  Ned's  admonition  about  The  Red  Knight.  It 
was  his  last  word. 

"See  that  no  harm  comes  to  The  Red  Knight, 
Dad,"  was  Ned's  laughing  caution.  "  It  is  the 
one  thing  on  the  farm  that  Dad  would  not  part 
with." 

"  Ah !  "  said  the  old  man  with  sudden  decision, 
"  I  maun  take  a  turn  hout  to  the  barn.  The  snow 
moight  'arm  the  bonny  corn." 

Lighting  his  lantern  he  went  out  and  was  grati- 
fied to  find  that  the  grain  was  snugly  secure. 
When  he  came  in  he  went  to  the  room  where  lay 
the  two  hundred  bushels.  Opening  the  door  he 
flashed  his  lantern  about.  Here,  too,  all  was 

146 


ONE  BLACK  NIGHT  147 

weather-tight.  At  sight  of  the  pile  of  wonderful 
wheat  he  exclaimed  in  admiration.  Picking  up  a 
handful  he  held  it  close  to  the  light. 

"  'Ee's  wealthy-loike ! "  said  the  old  man,  ca- 
ressing the  plump  brown  grains  with  his  fingers. 
"  'Ee's  the  fat  corn  und  'evvy !  The  old  un'll  make 
a  pile  on  un." 

Shutting  the  door  he  returned  to  his  pipe  and 
dreamed  of  visions  of  riches  in  store  for  Ned  and 
his  father,  his  innocent  old  face  glowing  with 
pleasure  at  the  contemplation  of  their  good  for- 
tune. Rising  at  length  he  went  to  the  door,  took 
a  long  look  out  into  the  black  night,  then  shut  it 
carefully  and  retired  to  his  bed. 

It  was  nearing  the  hour  of  midnight  when  he 
was  aroused  from  sleep  by  a  thumping  upon  the 
door.  Rising  he  threw  up  the  sash  and  looked 
down. 

"Hello!  Is  that  Mr.  Blackford?"  called  an 
anxious  voice. 

"  Hit  be,"  was  the  succinct  response. 

"  I  am  from  Jake  McCarragh's.  One  of  his 
mares  is  down  and  he  wants  you  to  come  over  and 
give  us  a  hand." 

"Ah!  'Ee's  a  'orse  sick.  Ah'll  coome  along," 
was  the  kind  response. 

"  I'm  on  the  hike,"  said  the  voice  below.  "  I'll 
foot  it  back  on  the  double  quick  and  help  Jake. 
You  hurry  after  as  fast  as  you  can." 

The  case  was  evidently  urgent. 


148  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

"  Hal  roight,  go  a'ead.  Ah'll  be  along,"  replied 
the  old  man,  hastening  to  dress. 

In  a  short  time  he  was  ready  and  stepped  out 
into  the  storm,  trudging  down  the  lane  and  off 
into  the  north  with  the  blizzard  in  his  face.  He 
did  not  hear  the  muffled  beat  of  galloping  hoofs  as 
he  emerged  into  the  road-allowance. 

As  we  have  mentioned  before,  there  were  pedes- 
trians about  the  drifted  streets  of  Pellawa.  One 
of  these  venturesome  wanderers  was  the  little 
French  bagger  of  the  Valley  Outfit,  Jean  Benoit. 
He  had  come  to  Pellawa  in  the  morning  and  un- 
toward obstructions  had  kept  him  from  setting  out 
on  his  return  home.  He  was  still  "  hung  up  "  and 
was  plunging  impatiently  through  the  drifts  with 
determination  to  make  a  swift  wind  up  of  business 
when  he  heard  a  voice  down  the  lane  to  his  right. 

"  You  are  sure  Pullar's  away  ?  "  came  clearly 
through  the  storm. 

"  Went  in  on  the  morning  train  with  the  old 
man,"  replied  another  voice. 

Jean  halted.  The  mention  of  Pullar  had  awak- 
ened his  curiosity. 

"  I'd  hate  to  run  into  the  Valley  boss.  He's  a 
bang-up  hitter." 

"  No  danger.  We're  squaring  with  Pullar  to- 
night. He'll  never  know  who  pinched  his  wheat." 

At  this  point  a  mutual  laugh  came  through  the 
darkness. 


ONE  BLACK  NIGHT  149 

"You  meet  me  with  the  others  at  Morrison's 
bluff.  That's  the  line,  eh?" 

"  Righto !  We'll  slip  into  Pullar's  yard  about 
twelve.  So  long." 

There  was  no  more.  The  men  had  passed  on. 
Jean  lingered.  He  had  not  caught  the  full  sig- 
nificance of  the  brief  dialogue,  for  he  could  not 
hear  every  word  and  the  English  troubled  him  in 
places.  He  pieced  enough  together,  however,  to 
conclude  that  some  foul  work  was  meditated 
against  Ned.  He  held  his  counsel  and  rushed 
through  preparations  for  departure.  As  he  took 
the  South  Cut  in  his  descent  into  the  Valley  he 
saw  a  light  in  the  Grant  home.  So  agitated  had 
he  become  in  his  review  of  the  incident  in  the  vil- 
lage that  he  decided  to  lay  the  matter  before 
Charles  Grant. 

The  farmer  was  in  bed,  but  at  his  knock  a  light 
step  tripped  down  the  stairs  and  Margaret  opened 
the  door.  She  invited  him  in.  Grant  was 
promptly  aroused  and  evidenced  serious  perturba- 
tion at  Jean's  story. 

"  I  am  afraid  there  is  some  devilment  afoot," 
was  his  comment.  "  You  say  there  may  be  a  big 
gang  at  work  ?  " 

"  Wan,  two,  tree,  four !  Mebbe  other !  I  do 
not  know.  I  tink  many." 

"  Can  it  be  an  attempt  to  steal  Mr.  Pullar's  new 
wheat  ?  "  ventured  Margaret.  "  Mary  has  been 
telling  me  so  much  about  it.  I  saw  her  to-day. 


150  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

Ned  and  his  father  have  gone  into  the  City  at  the 
call  of  John  T.  C.  Norrgrene." 

"  It  may  be  that,  lass,"  agreed  her  father. 
"  Jean's  tale  points  that  way." 

"  They  are  after  The  Red  Knight !  "  said  Mar- 
garet with  intuitive  conviction.  "It  is  a  terrible 
night.  What  can  poor  old  Dad  Blackford  do 
against  a  gang  of  daring  thieves?  " 

"  We'll  take  a  hand  in  it  ourselves,"  said  Grant 
grimly.  "  Jean,  you  take  the  south  trail  and  let 
Easy  Murphy  know.  I'll  dress  and  pick  up 
Lawrie  and " 

"  I'll  saddle  Flash,  Dad,"  interrupted  Margaret. 
"  I'm  all  ready.  I  can  ride  over  and  let  Andy 
know." 

Grant  looked  at  the  girl  a  second,  considering. 

"  Very  well,  lass !  Do  it,"  said  her  father  with 
a  smile.  "  Ye're  good  for  it  and  there  is  not  any 
time  to  waste.  Be  careful,  for  the  night  is  dark." 

Before  her  father  had  reached  the  stable  Mar- 
garet was  in  the  saddle  and  away. 

Andy  was  easily  aroused  and  in  an  incredibly 
short  time  was  astride  Night. 

"You  ride  back  home,"  directed  he  to  Mar- 
garet. "  I'll  push  Night  through.  It  is  half -past 
eleven  and  we  have  four  miles  to  run.  I  may  be 
in  time  to  scare  them  off.  Your  Dad  and  the 
others  will  be  right  on  my  heels." 

With  a  farewell  shout  he  plunged  into  the 
storm.  The  sound  of  Night's  speeding  hoofs 


ONE  BLACK  NIGHT  161 

smote  her  ears  then  died  away.  Reluctantly  she 
turned  Flash  for  home  and  trotted  off.  They  had 
proceeded  but  a  few  rods  when  she  reined  him  in 
and  halted  abruptly,  loitering  irresolute. 

"  Come,  Flash !  About !  "  was  her  sudden  com- 
mand. "  We'll  be  in  it,  too." 

Wheeling  her  mount  she  sent  him  at  a  gallop 
after  Night  and  his  rider. 

Andy  put  his  horse  through  at  a  stiff  pace.  The 
homestead  was  shrouded  in  blackness  as  he  ap- 
proached. Riding  through  the  gate  he  cantered 
swiftly  down  the  lane,  and  pulled  up  beside  the 
house.  He  had  but  halted  when  he  discerned  the 
dim  movement  of  figures  on  all  sides  of  him. 
With  the  consciousness  of  their  presence  came  the 
realization  that  they  were  men. 

"  Good-night,  gentlemen !  "  he  called. 

But  there  was  no  reply.  Instead  he  could  hear 
smothered  cries  of  chagrin  and  savage  anger,  fol- 
lowed by  a  rush  of  the  encompassing  forms. 
Night's  bridle  was  seized  and  strong  hands 
grappled  him,  dragging  him  from  the  saddle.  Ter- 
rified by  the  rough  handling  and  mysterious  com- 
motion the  horse  reared  and  plunged,  tearing  away 
from  her  captors.  Leaping  free  she  dashed  off 
down  the  lane. 

As  Andy  came  to  earth  he  clutched  one  of  his 
assailants  and  they  rolled  over.  In  the  darkness 
the  others  seizing  his  foeman  by  mistake  wrenched 


152  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

him  away,  leaving  Andy  free.  Leaping  to  his  feet, 
he  backed  to  the  wall  of  the  house.  Discovering 
their  mistake  they  rushed  him  again.  He  struck 
out  and  a  shadow  staggered  and  fell.  They  closed 
in  as  another  went  down.  Hands  seized  him  on 
every  side.  He  was  struggling  mightily,  tossing 
his  assailants  about,  when  he  heard  a  voice  shrill 
out  above  the  smothered  tumult.  He  realized  that 
it  was  Margaret's  cry  and  conscious  that  help  was 
near,  fought  with  renewed  fury  to  free  his  arms. 
Then  something  crashed  upon  his  head  and  he  tot- 
tered back,  falling  in  a  heap  against  the  wall. 

Speeding  along  on  the  trail  behind,  Margaret 
had  not  spared  her  horse.  She  had  slowed  up  and 
was  peering  through  the  darkness  for  the  gate 
when  Flash  swerved  violently,  almost  unseating 
her.  At  the  same  time  there  dashed  past  her  some 
fleeing  thing.  All  she  caught  was  the  dim  shadow 
of  an  empty  saddle  and  flying  stirrups.  She  knew 
it  was  Night.  Thrilled  by  a  foreboding  of  disaster 
she  charged  down  the  lane.  She  rode  up  to  the 
house,  halting  Flash  on  his  haunches  at  the  group 
of  struggling  men.  She  could  hear  the  heavy 
breathing  and  knew  that  Andy  was  fighting  des- 
perately with  his  back  to  the  wall.  She  thought  of 
riding  Flash  upon  them  but  checked  him,  fearing 
she  might  injure  Andy  himself.  A  sense  of  im- 
potence swept  over  her.  Then  flashed  into  her 
mind  an  idea.  Rising  in  her  stirrups  she  shouted: 

"  Father !    Men !    This  way !  " 


'ONE  BLACK  NIGHT  153 

Immediately  Andy  went  down,  but  at  the  same 
instant  Snoopy  Bill  and  his  men  were  stampeded. 
Sure  that  a  rescue  party  was  on  them  they  dropped 
their  victim  and  bolted  for  the  sleighs.  Leaping 
in  they  whirled  their  teams  about  and  lashing  them 
to  a  run  fled  out  of  the  yard  and  back  over  the 
fields. 

Ten  minutes  later  when  Grant  galloped  up  with 
the  others  they  found  Margaret  sitting  in  the  snow 
with  Andy's  head  upon  her  lap. 

"  Lassie !  "  cried  the  astonished  Grant.  "  You 
here?" 

"  Yes,  Father !  "  was  her  quiet  reply.  "  I  got 
here  too  late  to  save  Andy.  They've  hurt  him 
terribly." 

"  Be  easy,  lass !  "  soothed  the  man,  "  it  may  not 
be  sae  serious.  The  lad  will  be  coming  round  in  a 
meenit." 

They  carried  him  into  the  house  and  laid  him 
upon  a  couch.  A  quick  examination  discovered 
a  gash  in  the  head  from  some  heavy  implement. 

"  It  is  a  concussion,"  said  Grant.  "  But  not 
vera  deep.  Aye,  he  is  coming  out." 

Andy  opened  his  eyes.  The  first  object  he  be- 
came conscious  of  was  the  face  of  Margaret  bend- 
ing over  him.  Smiling  faintly  he  observed  in  sur- 
prise: 

"You  here,  Margaret?  I  thought  I  heard  you 
shout  just  before  they  got  me." 

He  closed  his  eyes  drowsily. 


154  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

"  You  sent  me  home,"  she  whispered  in  his 
ear.  "  But  I  changed  my  mind  and  followed 
you." 

When  she  looked  up  she  discovered  that  they 
were  alone. 

"  You  should  not  have  come,"  was  the  gentle 
reprimand. 

"  Indeed  ?  I  think  you  were  very  rude  to  send 
me  away." 

"  But  I  am  glad  you  are  here,  now,"  said  he 
contentedly. 

"You  really  are?" 

"  Really." 

"  And  so  am  I,"  said  the  girl  softly.  "  Because 
— because,  Andy,  that  wonderful  '  something  *  has 
happened.  Now  I  know  beyond  all  doubt  that  I 
have  always  loved  you  and — I  love  you  now." 

"  Then,"  said  he,  drawing  her  head  down  to 
him,  "then " 

"  You  may  kiss  me  with  a  clear  conscience, 
Andy." 

While  Margaret  was  dispensing  her  welcome 
ministrations  Grant  and  his  men  were  going  over 
the  buildings.  Their  swift  search  found  every- 
thing intact.  Two  of  the  riders  who  had  gone  out 
to  the  portable  granary  reported  all  well  there. 
Not  a  grain  of  The  Red  Knight  had  been  touched. 
While  this  was  gratifying,  the  men's  faces  were 
exceedingly  grave.  Nowhere  on  the  premises 


ONE  BLACK  NIGHT  155 

could  they  find  Dad  Blackford.  They  were  be- 
ginning to  discuss  the  probability  of  foul  play 
when  Easy  Murphy  gave  a  yell. 

"  Hist,  ladies  and  gintlemen !  "  said  he.  "  Take 
a  look.  'Tis  the  missing  link  himsilf,  disguised  as 
Santa  Clause." 

They  all  took  a  look  and  there  on  the  porch 
stood  Dad  Blackford  hatless  and  dishevelled,  with 
snow-matted  beard  and  a  very  red  and  perspiring 
face.  He  was  blowing  like  a  grampus  and  looked 
for  all  the  world  like  the  merry  personality  of 
Christmas  tide.  His  eyes  were  astonished  at  the 
sight  they  met  and  how  they  sparkled  as  they  re- 
counted to  him  the  night's  adventures.  His  joy  at 
finding  that  all  was  well  more  than  compensated 
for  the  shameless  treatment  he  had  received  at  the 
hands  of  the  artful  Sykes. 

When  Margaret  got  him  alone  she  somewhat 
surprised  him. 

"  Never  mind,  Dad,"  she  confided.  "  After  all 
it's  been  a  delightful  adventure.  Andy  got  a  sore 
head  but  it  will  soon  be  better.  His  heart  is  well 
again." 

Dad  looked  at  her  a  moment  dumbfounded. 
Then  he  tumbled  and  the  laughter  of  a  merry 
heart  twinkled  in  his  eyes. 

"  Been  'avin'  a  quarrel  with  un  ?  "  he  teased. 

"No.  Just  a  little  misunderstanding,"  she 
whispered  back. 

This  bit  of  confidence  turned  the  whole  affair 


156  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

into  a  thing  of  joy  for  the  kind-hearted  old  Eng- 
lishman. 

While  this  tete-a-tete  was  taking  place  the  men 
were  riding  down  the  vandals  by  the  aid  of  lighted 
lanterns.  The  trail  was  dim  to  begin  with,  how- 
ever, and  grew  dimmer  as  they  swerved  to  the  west 
out  upon  the  high  prairie.  Here  it  vanished  alto- 
gether and  the  party  returned.  The  blackness  of 
the  night  and  the  heavily  drifting  snow  enabled 
Snoopy  Bill  and  his  men  to  make  a  clean  get-away. 

Following  Sykes'  plan  providing  for  misadven- 
ture they  turned  into  the  west  instead  of  the  east 
and  recrossed  the  Valley  about  the  west  end  of  the 
lake,  eventually  arriving  in  the  Square  Room  thor- 
oughly wearied  and  disgruntled  and  two  hours  be- 
hind schedule  time. 

Sykes'  face  was  a  picture  of  blank  dismay ;  Mc- 
Clure's  of  rage. 

"  Where  is  the  squealer  ?  "  cried  Bob  McClure 
as  he  stalked  among  the  men. 

Blasphemous  and  resentful  protestations  quite 
evidently  sincere  came  from  all  parts  of  the  room. 

"No,  Rob!"  said  Snoopy  Bill  deliberately. 
"  You  are  a  liar  if  you  say  it.  There  isn't  a 
squealer  in  the  gang.  Not  a  man  laid  down.  Any 
squealing  that  may  have  taken  place  was  let  out 
by  the  gents  who  stayed  behind." 

Reddy  Sykes  read  the  savage  light  in  Baird's 
eyes. 


OKE  BLACK  NIGHT  157 

"  You  are  straight,  Bill,"  he  cried  soothingly. 
"  Straight  as  a  die  and  I  know  it.  The  boys  came 
through.  But  somebody  outside  got  wise.  We'll 
find  out  and  when  we  do  somebody's  due  to  get  a 
blankety  unpleasant  surprise.  The  whole  thing 
ran  out  to  dope.  We  should  have  that  wheat  in 
Hunt's  shack.  It's  Pullar's  luck.  But  it  will 
change.  Here's  to  a  lucky  break." 

He  held  his  flask  high.  The  men  caught  his 
spirit  and  responded  with  a  shout.  For  an  hour 
the  crew  caroused,  drinking  heavily  as  they  de- 
bated the  fiasco,  breaking  up  before  dawn. 

Dad  Blackford  made  a  full  report  to  Ned. 
Though  no  trace  of  the  perpetrators  of  the  offense 
had  been  obtained,  his  mind  flew  instantly  to  his 
two  enemies.  The  Red  Knight  had  been  their  ob- 
jective. The  incident  was  big  with  warning  to 
him.  It  assured  him  of  two  things:  of  their  ma- 
licious, untiring  hate ;  of  their  dangerous  resource. 
Thoughts  of  Mary  pressed  heavily  upon  him.  He 
remembered  her  words: 

"  There  is  no  other  way.  But,  Ned,  you  will 
have  to  be  right,  always,  as  well  as  irresistible.  I 
know  you  will  be." 

"  It's  a  stiff  programme,  little  girl,"  he  reflected 
ruefully.  "  But  we'll  stay  with  it." 


XVI 
THE  SPIDER  WEAVES 

SNOW!  SNOW!  In  glistening  deserts! 
Ghastly  white  blankets  of  it  hung  to  the 
sky-rim!  The  hills,  frosted  bridal  cakes, 
terrace  on  terrace!  The  valleys,  rolls  and  folds 
and  gouges  of  white!  Over  all  the  blue  yawn  of 
an  empty  sky!  The  air  stabs  with  its  invisible, 
minute  Damascus  daggers.  It  is  a  smiting  vacu- 
ity, frozen,  tense.  One's  breath  floats  from  the 
lips  in  a  powdered  cloud  of  whitening  mist.  It  is 
winter — the  snapping,  crackling,  detonating,  hoary- 
headed  winter  of  the  North ! 

The  February  sun  pours  down  on  the  plains  in 
a  fierce,  garish  flow,  shedding  no  warmth  from  its 
low-slanting  shafts.  Pellawa  is  hushed  to 
sepulchral  solitude  in  the  grim  embrace  of  "  forty 
below."  An  occasional  sleigh  drifts  phantom-like 
along  the  street,  its  runners  emitting  a  frosty  sing- 
ing. Only  the  dozens  of  smoke  columns  rising 
straight  and  high  in  the  air  proclaim  the  village  a 
haunt  of  the  living. 

Wrapped  in  the  comfort  of  an  immense  buffalo 
coat,  Reddy  Sykes  stepped  into  a  waiting  cutter. 

158 


THE  SPIDER  WEAVES  159 

"  Rob  McClure's ! "  was  his  brief  direction  to 
the  driver. 

As  the  team  trotted  down  the  street  and  out 
over  the  white  expanse  he  settled  himself  snugly 
among  the  robes.  Sykes  was  in  fine  fettle,  with 
eyes  unusually  bright.  His  great  chest  expanded 
in  deep  breaths  of  self-gratification.  His  elation 
was  somewhat  due  to  the  bibber's  effervescence. 
The  odour  of  his  habitual  elixir  exhaled  copiously 
from  his  breath.  But  here  was  another  stimulant 
none  the  less  powerful.  The  fox  was  out  with  his 
nose  in  the  wind  hugging  a  live  trace.  There  was 
game  in  the  wind. 

He  reached  McClure's  as  the  sun  rolled  under 
the  reddened  valley  in  a  disk  of  blood.  Leaving 
the  cutter  he  stepped  briskly  to  the  door.  While 
stamping  the  snow  from  his  feet,  preparatory  to 
knocking,  a  musical  voice  greeted  him  and  Mary 
McClure  appeared  miraculously  at  his  side,  an 
apple-cheeked,  cherry-lipped  Venus-in-furs.  She 
had  just  driven  in  from  The  Craggs. 

"  Pardon  me ! "  said  Sykes,  in  cavalier  atten- 
tiveness,  reaching  out  for  the  knob  she  had  al- 
ready taken.  The  rare  beauty  of  the  girl  and  her 
close  presence  ensnared  him.  Recklessly  obedient 
to  a  sudden  impulse,  he  seized  her  hand  and  drew 
her  closer  to  him.  For  the  briefest  instant  he 
looked  into  her  eyes  with  daring  assurance. 

"  Mary !  "  he  said  softly,  imprisoning  firmly  her 
struggling  hand,  "  what  a  chic  little  wench  you  are ! 


160  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

Do  you  realize  that  you  are  maddening  in  those 
furs,  with  your  eyes  and  colour  and  lips?  Your 
lips !  "  he  repeated,  leaning  toward  her. 

The  cordial  smile  faded  swiftly  from  her  eyes 
and  the  red  cheeks  blanched. 

"  Please  release  my  hand,  Mr.  Sykes,"  she  com- 
manded, in  a  low,  distressed  tone. 

Looking  down  into  her  indignant  eyes  he  saw 
something  there  that  counselled  hasty  obedience. 
He  let  go  at  once. 

"  Sorry,  Mary !  "  was  his  apology  in  a  tone  af- 
fecting deep  penitence.  "  I  am  demented  over  you. 
You  are  distracting  to-night.  Will  you  let  me  in? 
I  have  come  to  see  your  father." 

Making  no  reply  she  opened  the  door. 

"  Mr.  Sykes  is  here,  Mother,"  was  the  quiet  an- 
nouncement. "  He  drove  up  just  as  I  came  in 
from  stabling  Bobs.  He  wishes  to  see  Father  at 
once." 

Mrs.  McClure  cordially  welcomed  the  effusively 
agreeable  guest,  guiding  him  to  the  office.  In  a 
very  few  minutes  he  reappeared,  accompanied  by 
McClure,  who  proceeded  to  make  hasty  prepara- 
tions for  the  trail. 

"  You  go  ahead,"  said  he  to  Sykes.  "  I'll  come 
along  in  my  own  rig." 

"  Are  you  leaving  before  tea  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Mc- 
Clure in  surprise. 

"  Yes,"  was  the  abrupt  response.  "  We  have  a 
big  deal  on.  I'll  not  be  back  until  late." 


THE  SPIDER  WEAVES  161 

As  the  men  went  out  the  two  women  looked  at 
each  other  in  silent  significance.  On  the  topic  of 
father  and  husband  their  lips  were  sealed.  At  the 
moment  their  minds  were  exceedingly  busy.  The 
burning  light  in  Mary's  eyes  disturbed  her  mother. 

"  You  are  troubled,  daughter  ?  "  was  the  gentle 
question  as  she  threw  her  arms  about  the  girl. 
"  Perhaps  it  will  help  us  both  to  talk  it  over.  I 
think  it  high  time  that  we  should  resume  our  little 
confidences." 

Returning  the  embrace  and  caress,  Mary  looked 
soberly  into  her  mother's  eyes. 

"  It  is  a  fear  I  have  had  for  weeks,  Mother," 
said  she,  responding  to  her  mother's  question. 
"  Until  to-day  it  was  more  or  less  vague.  Now  it 
is  real.  I  am  convinced  there  is  ground  for  a  lit- 
tle anxiety  on  my  part.  Can  you  not  surmise 
it?" 

Helen  McClure  studied  the  serious  eyes  so  near 
her.  She  shook  her  head. 

"  No.  I  do  not  think  it  would  be  wise  to  guess. 
Can  you  not  tell  me  ?  " 

"  I  shudder  at  the  influence  Mr.  Sykes  has  over 
Father,"  said  Mary  reminiscently.  "  It  alarms  me 
to  see  that  power  grow  stronger  every  day.  Can- 
didly, Mother,  I  am  afraid  of  the  deal  they  are  in 
such  haste  to  arrange.  There  was  something  un- 
pleasantly secretive  in  their  manner  just  now.  I 
did  not  like  the  look  in  Dad's  eyes." 

"  Is  this  your  fear  ?  "  pressed  the  mother  gently. 


162  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

"  This  is  involved,"  returned  Mary.  "  I  have 
an  even  more  personal  anxiety.  I  am  afraid  of 
the  man,  Chesley  Sykes.  He  is  growing  too  at- 
tentive and  familiar.  Why?  I  do  not  know.  I 
have  never  liked  him  and  he  has  no  right  to  press 
his  intimacy.  He  is  irrepressible,  laughs  at  my 
snubs  and  deports  himself  with  such  annoying  con- 
fidence. This  all  came  about  suddenly  in  the  early 
winter.  Why  should  he  insist  on  a  friendship  that 
is  detestable  to  me  ?  " 

Mary  paused,  awaiting  some  response  to  her 
appeal.  But  her  mother  hazarded  no  guess. 

"  You  will  remember,  Mother,"  resumed  Mary 
reflectively,  "  that  I  stopped  riding  the  Valley  dur- 
ing those  wonderful  days  in  December.  I  did  that 
because  of  a  wholesome  fear  of  Chesley  Sykes.  I 
had  a  persistent  feeling  that  he  was  shadowing  me. 
Several  times  during  my  rides  along  the  river  I 
'  happened '  upon  him.  One  day,  seized  with  an 
intuition  that  somebody  was  trailing  me,  I  slipped 
into  a  cowpath  and  detouring  quickly,  watched  the 
back  trail  from  a  covert.  In  a  few  minutes  Sykes 
rode  up  on  that  big  hunter  of  his.  He  pulled  up 
at  the  cowpath  and  leaning  down  studied  it  a  mo- 
ment. Satisfied,  at  length,  he  turned  into  Bobs' 
tracks  and  followed  me.  As  he  turned  down  the 
path  he  spoke  to  his  horse.  I  caught  the  words 
and  they  frightened  me. 

"  '  King ! '  said  he,  with  that  confident  laugh, 
'  nothing  our  little  lady  can  do  will  blind  our  trail. 


THE  SPIDEB  WEAVES  163 

She'll  find  one  Sykes  in  at  the  killing.  She's  a 
neat  little  fox  but  we'll  gather  her  brush.' 

"  I  shook  him  by  sending  Bobs  into  the  Willow 
and  up-stream.  After  riding  out  of  sight  about  a 
bend  we  stole  into  the  trees  and  made  all  haste  for 
home. 

"  To-night  at  the  door  he  was  rude  and  maudlin. 
He  had  been  drinking  and  was  therefore  unwise. 
He  professed  to  be  penitent,  yet  I  could  see  his 
audacious  assurance  cropping  out.  This  is  the 
thing  that  makes  me  tremble.  He  has  some  reason 
for  this  boldness.  He  has  Dad's  approval.  It  is 
evidently  Dad's  will  that  I  foster  intimate  relations 
with  his  friend.  That  I  will  not  do." 

Looking  into  her  daughter's  glowing  eyes, 
Helen  McClure  was  deeply  conscious  of  the 
trouble  there.  Her  own  mind  was  alarmed  and 
had  been  for  many  days.  She  knew  only  too  well 
that  Mary  had  plumbed  correctly  her  father's  in- 
tentions as  to  her  relations  with  Sykes.  She  was 
also  sure  of  something  that  the  girl  was  only  dimly 
suspicious  of.  She  had  long  since  concluded  that 
the  two  men  had  reached  some  definite  agreement 
that  had  far-reaching  interest  for  Mary.  Their 
projects  seemed  to  involve  her  compliance.  The 
mother  knew  that  circumstances  were  leading  to  a 
clash  of  wills.  But  she  decided  that  reticence  was 
best  for  the  present. 

"  I  am  sorry  you  are  in  trouble,  Mary,"  said  the 
mother  affectionately.  "  You  have  certainly  real 


164  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

ground  for  your  distrust  of  Sykes.  Avoid  him. 
And  if  a  swift  decision  should  ever  be  thrust  upon 
you,  follow  your  heart.  That  is  the  only  safe 
way.  But  we  must  not  grow  pessimistic,  daugh- 
ter. There  are  bright  days  ahead.  We  will  help 
them  to  come  quickly." 

The  reserve  with  which  her  mother  spoke  con- 
vinced Mary  of  grave  reasons  for  caution.  Run- 
ning up  to  her  room  she  pondered  the  events  of 
the  last  hour.  As  she  dwelt  upon  her  experiences 
and  pieced  her  disturbing  reflections  she  found 
herself  looking  into  the  future  with  a  distinct  sense 
of  trepidation. 

The  night  was  dark,  a  night  of  stars  dazzlingly 
bright.  There  was  a  traveller  on  the  Pellawa 
trail.  Ned  Pullar  was  drawing  near  the  home- 
stead upon  his  return  from  the  village.  The  air 
was  calm  save  for  the  slight  drift  of  a  five-mile 
breeze  caused  by  his  ride  into  the  north.  Even 
this  faint  wind  had  the  biting  tang  of  the  ex- 
tremely low  temperature,  forcing  him  to  avert  his 
face  from  its  freezing  breath.  Giving  a  sudden, 
piercing  whistle  he  sent  his  horses  into  a  smart 
trot. 

He  was  the  prey  to  a  vague  uneasiness.  That 
morning  he  had  set  out  with  his  father  with  their 
two  loads  of  Red  Knight.  A  great  deal  of  time 
had  been  spent  at  the  village  making  up  the  ship- 
ments to  the  various  national  farms.  It  was  late 
before  they  were  ready  to  set  out  for  home.  Then 


THE  SPIDER  WEAVES  165 

occurred  a  hitch.  They  were  taking  back  with 
them  a  power  fanning  mill.  When  they  drove 
up  to  Nick  Ford's  implement  shed  they  were  dis- 
appointed to  find  that  the  mill  had  not  been  com- 
pletely set  up.  It  would  take  quite  half  an  hour, 
so  Ford  advised  them. 

"  I'll  take  the  engine  with  me,"  said  Ned.  "  I 
can  set  out  ahead  and  get  busy  with  the  chores. 
You  will  be  along  in  an  hour  or  so." 

"  That  will  be  the  best  plan,"  agreed  the  old 
man. 

His  father  had  no  sooner  agreed  to  the  sugges- 
tion than  a  misgiving  swept  over  Ned.  A  glance 
at  his  father's  face  reassured  him,  however,  and  he 
let  the  arrangement  stand.  Loading  the  gasoline 
engine  he  set  off.  As  he  drove  along  he  debated 
the  wisdom  of  his  decision.  Three  months  ago  he 
would  not  have  left  his  father  alone  in  Pellawa. 
But  these  months  had  seen  a  remarkable  change  in 
Edward  Pullar.  He  had  developed  a  dignity  and 
self-reliance  that  Ned  knew  was  based  in  a  sudden 
accretion  of  strength.  His  dreams  of  The  Red 
Knight  were  ennobling  and  the  achievement  of  the 
hopes  of  long  years  had  rallied  him.  He  felt  it 
safe  to  trust  him  alone  in  the  village  with  its  lurk- 
ing danger,  and  yet — he  wished  again  and  again 
that  he  had  waited  with  his  father.  The  nearer 
he  drew  to  the  homestead  the  greater  grew  his  un- 
easiness. 

Edward  Pullar  went  into  the  little  office  occupy- 


166  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

ing  a  corner  of  the  implement  shed  and  sat  down 
prepared  to  patiently  await  the  completion  of 
Ford's  task.  It  was  the  only  place  in  the  village 
where  he  could  pass  the  time  with  safety.  Louie 
Swale's  and  Sparrow's  both  occurred  to  him  as  the 
common  rendezvous  of  travellers,  but  he  passed 
them  up  with  a  shudder.  He  well  knew  his  weak- 
ness and  wished  greatly  to  vindicate  Ned's  faith  in 
him.  The  business  of  setting  up  the  mill  did  not 
progress  continuously.  In  fact,  several  times 
Ford  had  dropped  his  tools  to  visit  the  Square 
Room.  There  he  at  length  met  Sykes  and  Mc- 
Clure.  The  trio  held  ominous  consultation. 

"  Old  Ed.  is  in  my  office,"  replied  Ford  to  a 
question  from  Sykes.  "  Ned  must  be  nearly 
home.  You  did  not  meet  him  ?  " 

"  No.  He  slipped  down  into  the  Valley  just  as 
we  drove  out  of  Rob's." 

"I've  killed  about  all  the  time  I  dare  without 
arousing  his  suspicion.  Let  us  get  him  in  here." 

McClure  shook  his  head  emphatically. 

"  Nothing  doing,"  was  his  impatient  retort. 
"  He's  dodged  it  for  months.  We'll  have  to  get 
him  without  his  knowing  it." 

Sykes  sat  back  watching  the  others  and  sipping 
his  glass  reflectively.  With  a  laugh  of  easy  assur- 
ance he  rocked  forward  in  his  chair. 

"  It  will  be  easy,"  said  he  with  a  cryptic  smile. 
"  It  all  depends  on  you,  Ford.  If  you  will  take 
your  time  and  keep  your  head  the  thing  is  done. 


THE  SPIDER  WEAVES  167 

I've  got  the  paper  ready.  Old  Ed.  can  hold  a 
tankful  and  walk  as  straight  as  a  post.  I've  seen 
him  drunk  as  a  lord  but  to  all  appearances  as  quiet 
and  wise  as  a  judge.  We'll  get  Cy  Marshall  in  to 
witness  the  deal.  Cy's  eyesight  is  not  what  it  used 
to  be,  but  it  is  all  we  could  desire.  Might  be  lucky 
later  to  have  the  documents  O  K-ed  by  a  magis- 
trate whose  record  is  without  blemish.  Here  is  a 
little  secret,"  said  he,  drawing  a  small  vial  from 
his  pocket. 

Opening  the  tube  he  dropped  a  tiny  tablet  into 
his  palm.  Glancing  significantly  at  Ford  he  said: 

"  You  are  the  only  one  who  can  use  it,  Nick." 

But  Ford  shook  his  head  dubiously. 

"Perfectly  harmless!"  urged  Sykes.  "He'll 
sleep  it  down  in  six  hours  and — it  gets  you  a 
couple  of  hundred  now  and  a  share  when  Foyle 
comes  through." 

Ford  shifted.  Sykes  took  out  a  roll  of  bills. 
While  Ford  hung  back  Sykes  opened  a  flask  and 
dropped  in  the  tablet.  The  drug  dissolved  swiftly, 
leaving  the  liquor  as  before.  Sykes  laughed. 

"  I  repeat,  it  is  perfectly  harmless,"  said  he.  "  I 
could  drink  it  myself."  Then  he  added  with  a 
fiendish  glimmer  in  his  eyes  Rob  McClure  had  seen 
there  once  before,  "  They  got  you  sloppy  drunk 
last  fall,  Nick,  and  put  Rob's  gang  on  the  hog, 
then  threw  you  into  the  lake  to  cool  you  off.  Here 
is  your  chance  to  hand  Pullar  a  sleeper.  Are  you 
afraid  to  put  this  easy  thing  across  ?  " 


168  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

With  a  vengeful  laugh  Nick  reached  for  the 
flask. 

"  See  what  we  can  do  with  it,"  said  he  grimly. 
"  The  laugh's  on  Ned." 

"  Rob  and  I'll  meander  down  to  the  office,"  said 
Sykes  casually.  "  We'll  camp  there  for  an  hour. 
Cy  is  handy  any  time  we  want  him.  I'll  stay  at 
the  desk.  Rob  will  keep  his  eye  on  you  and  Old 
Ed.  We'll  have  to  work  fast,  but  without  any 
hurry,  remember  that,  without  any  hurry  while 
Cy  is  around." 

Thrusting  the  flask  in  an  inner  pocket  Ford  took 
his  departure. 

Meanwhile  Edward  Pullar  waited  in  the  imple- 
ment office.  The  room  was  very  small  and 
warmed  by  a  very  large  air-tight  heater.  He 
grew  so  warm  he  took  off  his  fur  coat.  Ford 
passed  in  and  out,  spending  a  moment  in  pleasant 
chat.  Alone  once  more  his  inactivity  and  the 
warmth  combined  to  make  him  drowsy.  His  head 
dropped  forward  at  times  in  a  brief  doze.  But 
he  would  instantly  rouse  and  glance  out  the  win- 
dow. His  throat  and  lips  grew  dry  and  a  thirst 
came  over  him.  He  went  over  to  a  pail  in  the  cor- 
ner, but  was  disappointed  to  find  it  contained  no 
water.  He  resumed  his  chair. 

As  he  sat  by  the  window  looking  out  into  the 
falling  night  Ford  entered  and  after  shuffling  a 
moment  about  the  little  desk  went  out.  The  thirst 
recurred,  but  as  there  was  no  way  to  slake  it,  he 


THE  SPIDEK  WEAVES  169 

patiently  endured  the  discomfort.  His  thoughts 
followed  Ned  along  the  trail  or  drifted  into  the 
fascinating  world  of  The  Red  Knight.  Then  the 
"  thing  "  began  to  creep  upon  him.  Gradually  he 
became  aware  of  an  odour  familiar  and  bibulously 
gratifying.  At  first  it  was  but  a  fleeting  inhala- 
tion. Then  it  became  continuous,  tripling  in  its 
pleasing  gratefulness.  A  possibility  flashed  into 
his  mind.  He  glanced  about.  There  it  was  upon 
the  desk  within  easy  reach.  He  could  just  discern 
it  in  the  dim  light.  It  was  a  flask  three  parts  full. 
Ford  had  left  it  carelessly  on  the  edge  of  the  drop 
leaf,  the  cork  out.  Without  any  act  of  volition 
his  hand  reached  out  and  his  fingers  closed  on  the 
glass.  As  he  felt  the  dear,  familiar  form  of  the 
flask  a  mighty  thirst  welled  up.  But  he  halted, 
and,  letting  go  of  the  bottle,  snatched  his  hand 
away  as  if  stung  by  a  serpent.  The  realization  of 
what  he  was  about  to  do  shook  him  strangely. 
Clenching  his  hands  he  turned  away,  lifting  his 
head  in  proud  resolution.  He  would  fight  this 
devil  sitting  so  quietly  by  him. 

Ford  came  in  again  and  lit  the  dirty  lamp.  He 
picked  up  the  bottle. 

"  You'll  excuse  me,  Ed.,"  said  he  apologetically. 
"  But  it's  so  raw  out  there  I've  got  to  take  a 
warmer.  Just  a  nip.  There !  " 

He  had  tipped  the  glass,  but  none  of  the  liquor 
had  passed  his  lips.  The  gurgle  was  maddening 
to  the  old  man. 


170  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

"  You're  welcome  to  a  swig,  Ed.,"  said  Ford  in 
a  friendly  manner.  "  But  I'll  not  ask  you  to  in- 
dulge, for  I  know  you're  on  the  water-wagon  these 
days.  I'll  leave  the  '  wee  drap  '  handy  in  case  you 
take  a  notion." 

He  went  out. 

Ten  minutes  passed  and  the  fight  against  the 
heat  and  the  terrible  thirst  went  swayingly  on. 
The  sight  of  the  yellow  liquid  coupled  with  the 
subtle  and  odorous  fumes  from  the  breath  of 
Bacchus  plied  him  with  an  exquisite  torment.  He 
began  to  fear  the  "  thing  "  again.  Rising,  he  put 
on  his  coat  and  prepared  for  a  stroll  in  the  keen 
night  without.  With  his  hand  on  the  door-knob 
he  looked  back,  pausing  irresolute.  Slowly  his 
fingers  relaxed  and  he  sat  down  once  more. 

A  physical  lassitude  began  to  steal  over  him,  due 
to  the  excessive  heat.  The  desire  to  drink  became 
overmasteringly  insistent.  The  smell  of  the  va- 
porizing whiskey  was  sweeter  than  perfumes  of 
Arabia.  In  a  little  he  became  conscious  of  noth- 
ing else.  Then  he  found  himself  sitting  beside  the 
desk,  leaning  heavily  upon  it,  the  empty  flask  in  his 
hand.  His  throat  was  parched  and  his  brain  on 
fire.  He  looked  at  the  bottle  with  burning  eyes. 
It  was  empty!  Empty!  As  he  contemplated  it 
wildly  Ford  entered. 

"  Your  mill  is  about  ready,"  said  he.  "  How 
are  you  making  it  ?  " 

"  Say,   Nick ! "   whispered   the   old   man   cun- 


THE  SPIDER  WEAVES  171 

ningly,  "  I've  stolen  a  march  on  you.  The  whis- 
key's all  gone.  I'd  give  a  hundred  dollars  for  a 
right  good  drink.  Where  can  we  get  it  ?  " 

Ford  looked  at  the  inebriate,  startled  at  the  wild 
leer  and  the  pitiable  obsequiousness  of  the  great 
figure. 

"  Too  bad  she's  dry !  "  was  the  response.  "  That 
was  the  last  drop  I  had.  Come  along  with  me. 
I'll  fix  you  up." 

They  went  out  together,  arriving  a  few  minutes 
later  at  Sykes'  office.  Before  they  entered  Ford 
whispered  in  his  ear: 

"  Straighten  up,  Ed.  That  was  strong  stuff. 
It's  got  you  swinging.  These  fellows  will  let  you 
have  all  you  want  after  you  sign  up." 

"  How  ? — how  is  that  ?  "  cried  the  old  man  in  a 
half-startled  voice,  as  he  forced  himself  to  walk 
erect. 

"  Hush !  "  was  the  admonitory  reply.  "  It's 
this  way.  They  have  no  right  to  let  you  have  it, 
and  unless  you  sign  three  or  four  little  papers, 
promising  not  to  give  them  away,  why,  of  course, 
they  don't  take  the  chance.  You  do  the  signing 
and  leave  the  rest  to  me.  Keep  straight  while  we 
are  inside.  We'll  get  a  bottle  and  go  back  to  the 
shed." 

"  I  understand,  Nick,"  was  the  solemn  response. 
"  I'll  protect  the  boys." 

They  entered.  McClure,  Sykes  and  Cy  Mar- 
shall were  within. 


172  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

"  Here  is  Ed.  Pullar,"  said  Nick.  "  He's  ready 
to  sign  up  and  in  an  all-fired  hurry.  It's  a  long 
trip  to  The  Craggs." 

"  We'll  let  him  go  quick,"  responded  Sykes  in  a 
businesslike  tone.  "  You  sign  here,  Mr.  Pul- 
lar." 

Exerting  all  his  power  of  will  Edward  Pullar 
wrote  his  name  on  a  number  of  papers.  The  sig- 
nature was  duly  certified  by  Cy  Marshall.  They 
loitered  a  moment,  during  which  Sykes  kept  up  a 
casual  chat.  Stepping  near,  Ford  at  length  whis- 
pered: 

"  We'll  get  out.  I've  got  it  Steady  and  slow, 
old  man." 

Obediently  the  old  man  followed  him  through 
the  door.  As  the  door  shut  his  fingers  closed 
around  the  promised  flask.  Then  with  a  drunken 
punctiliousness  he  halted. 

"  Say,  Nick!  "  was  the  shocked  whisper.  "  We 
forgot  to  settle  with  the  boys !  " 

Nick  laughed. 

"  It's  all  right,  Ed./'  was  the  soothing  response. 
"  I  laid  down  the  price.  It's  my  treat." 

With  a  relieved  laugh  the  old  man  trudged  after 
him. 

Ford  assisted  his  victim  to  hitch  up  his  horses 
and  load  the  mill,  joining  him  in  a  last  drink  be- 
fore he  sent  him  into  the  bitter  night. 

At  his  office  Sykes  sat  back  in  his  chair  rubbing 
his  hands  complacently,  while  Rob  McClure  stared 


THE  SPIDER  WEAVES  173 

at  the  parchments  decorated  with  the  clear  signa- 
ture of  Edward  Pullar. 

"  It's  a  tidy  little  clean-up,"  was  Rob's  gratified 
observation. 

"  Tidy's  the  word  and  tight !  "  agreed  Sykes 
with  acquiescing  nods.  "  We've  got  Pullar  hog- 
tied  with  a  two-inch  rope.  The  law  isn't  made 
that  can  bust  these  agreements.  When  Hank 
Foyle  signs  up  we  wind  up  a  very  pleasant  and 
totally  regular  deal." 

Arrived  at  the  homestead,  Ned  worked  swiftly 
at  his  tasks.  The  chores  finished,  he  ran  into  the 
house  and  busied  himself  preparing  their  simple 
meal.  This  too  accomplished,  he  opened  the  mail 
and  delved  into  the  pile  of  letters.  He  had  barely 
entered  upon  the  perusal  of  the  first  letter  when  he 
set  it  down  absent-mindedly.  He  was  troubled  at 
the  non-appearance  of  his  father.  The  uneasiness 
aroused  along  the  trail  changed  suddenly  to  a  fear 
that  all  was  not  right.  He  had  expected  to  hear 
the  bells  within  an  hour  after  his  arrival.  It  was 
now  nearly  two.  Throwing  on  cap  and  coat,  he 
walked  down  the  lane  to  the  road-allowance  and 
peered  into  the  main  trail.  It  was  empty  as  far  as 
the  eye  could  define.  With  hand  to  ear  he  lis- 
tened. There  was  no  sound  in  all  the  frozen  still- 
ness. It  was  a  deadly  night  for  the  helpless  trav- 
eller. The  temperature  was  creeping  lower  every 
minute.  He  thought  of  the  white  death  that  steals 
noiselessly  through  a  night  like  this.  With  the 


174  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

thought  came  a  premonition.  A  depressive  fear 
weighed  him  down. 

Hurrying  back  to  the  house  he  made  ready  for  a 
drive,  leaving  the  waiting  meal  untouched. 
Throwing  the  driving  harness  on  Darkey  and  his 
mate  he  hitched  them  to  the  cutter  and  set  off  for 
the  village.  They  sped  along  at  a  twelve-mile  clip, 
their  nimble  hoofs  tattooing  the  dash  with  a  fusil- 
lade of  snow  chips.  The  wind  of  their  own  mo- 
tion smote  his  face  with  its  subtle  sting,  blanching 
its  exposed  surfaces  before  he  realized  the  frost 
was  at  work.  Ducking  into  the  warm  collar,  he 
avoided  a  bad  bite.  Crouching  behind  the  wall  of 
fur,  his  mind  swiftly  conjured  the  fate  of  an  un- 
fortunate numbed  by  the  fancied  warmth  of  liquor. 
Pathetic  cases  of  terrible  exposures  and  death  flit- 
ted before  his  mind.  Scarcely  aware  of  it,  he 
urged  his  flying  horses  to  fifteen  miles. 

Unceasingly  he  searched  the  shadowy  twin-rib- 
bon of  trail  beyond  the  end  of  the  cutter  tongue. 
At  length  they  dipped  into  the  Northwest  Cut 
and  dashed  over  the  Valley  to  the  south  climb. 
There  as  they  were  taking  the  sharp  curve  about 
a  shoulder  of  the  hill,  his  horses  swerved  suddenly 
in  a  shying  leap.  He  halted  them  perilously  near 
the  edge  of  the  steep  embankment.  Coming  slowly 
about  the  hill  was  his  father's  team.  They  were 
taking  the  decline  soberly  and  carefully  and  appar- 
ently on  their  own  initiative.  There  was  no  driver 
in  sight.  At  a  sharp  command  from  Ned  they 


THE  SPIDEE  WEAVES  175 

halted.  Leaping  from  his  cutter,  he  looked  over 
the  edge  of  the  double  box.  In  the  bottom  of  the 
sleigh  lay  his  father,  motionless. 

With  a  poignant  cry  Ned  vaulted  into  the  sleigh. 
He  was  shocked  with  a  horrible  fear  as  he  discov- 
ered cap  and  gauntlets  removed  and  coat  wide 
open.  A  quick  glance  filled  him  with  increased 
alarm.  Hands  and  face  of  the  sleeper  were  white 
with  the  wax-like  colour  of  the  dead.  Hastily  he 
thrust  on  cap  and  gauntlets  and  closed  the  open 
coat.  Arranging  the  robes  in  the  cutter,  he  car- 
ried the  drunken  form  to  the  vehicle  and  placed  it 
upon  the  seat.  Taking  the  robes  and  even  the 
empty  bags  out  of  the  sleigh,  he  wrapped  them 
about  his  father  and  took  his  place  beside  him. 
Whirling  his  frost-coated  drivers  about,  he  sent 
them  furiously  down  the  hill,  leaving  the  heavy 
team  to  follow  at  their  own  sedate  pace. 

He  did  not  spare  the  willing  brutes  ahead  and 
pulled  them  up  at  the  door  in  a  cloud  of  steam. 
Throwing  the  robes  upon  them,  he  carried  his 
father  in  and  laid  him  upon  the  floor.  Rushing 
out,  he  brought  in  pails  of  snow  and  set  to  work 
massaging  the  frozen  face  and  hands.  Circula- 
tion once  more  established,  he  carried  the  still  inert 
form  to  his  bed.  This  accomplished,  he  went  out 
to  his  team  and  stabled  them.  The  dumb  brutes 
wondered  at  the  swift  tenderness  with  which  he 
groomed  away  the  thick  coat  of  frost. 

"  You  are  not  hurt  a  whit,"  said  he  gratefully, 


176  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

as  he  watched  them  happily  munching  their  oats. 
"And  you  saved  Dad." 

The  gentle  taps  with  which  he  bid  them  good- 
night were  comforting  to  their  faithful  equine 
spirits. 

Out  into  the  darkness  he  stepped,  missing  with  a 
sudden  and  strange  acuteness  the  mute  sympathy 
of  the  animals  now  shut  in  the  stables.  The  night 
was  colder  than  ever  and  breathless  with  the  hush 
of  the  lowering  temperature.  The  silence  of  the 
farmstead  depressed  him.  He  looked  at  the  house. 
It  was  a  mysterious  shape  in  the  darkness,  shelter- 
ing within  it  the  wreck  so  pitiably  still.  Enter- 
ing, he  sat  down  to  his  long  vigil.  It  was  a  lonely 
night  for  Ned  Pullar — the  loneliest  he  had  ever 
known. 


XVII 
HANK  FOYLE,  UNEXPECTED  GUEST 

THREE  weeks  later  Edward  Pullar  was 
sitting  up  for  the  first  time  since  his  un- 
fortunate visit  to  Pellawa.  The  scars 
of  his  terrible  exposure  were  losing  their  virulence 
and  strength  was  creeping  back  into  the  emaciated 
limbs. 

No  conversation  touching  the  lamentable  adven- 
ture had  taken  place.  Once  only  had  the  father 
referred  to  it  in  broken  and  pathetic  apology  that 
was  instantly  hushed  by  the  son.  With  the  gentle 
assiduity  of  a  mother  Ned  had  nursed  his  patient 
and  nobody  in  the  settlement  was  aware  of  the  dis- 
grace of  Edward  Pullar,  or  of  his  narrow  escape 
from  the  White  Death  of  the  northern  trails. 

For  Ned,  the  lapse  was  after  all  only  one  in 
many.  It  was  the  latest,  only  a  little  more  disap- 
pointing, more  unfortunate  and  with  the  addition 
of  tragedy  barely  avoided.  To  the  father  it  was 
all  this  and  more,  infinitely  more.  There  was  a 
fear  at  his  heart.  He  was  penitent  as  usual,  with 
an  almost  childish  contrition.  The  debauch  was 
mysteriously  clouded.  All  he  could  remember 
was  the  fact  of  draining  Nick's  flask.  This  was 

177 


178  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

clear.  After  that  he  had  faint  intimations  of  a 
hellish  thirst — some  effort  to  satisfy  it.  Through 
all  his  secret  musings  there  ran  a  fear,  a  vague 
foreboding,  but  he  could  not  define  it.  Memory 
would  not  work.  He  dwelt  in  a  state  of  suspense, 
the  victim  of  an  intangible  but  real  Nemesis.  He 
expected  something  inimical  to  strike.  Ned  could 
see  that  something  unusual  was  preying  upon  his 
father's  mind  and  it  troubled  him  deeply. 

One  thing  that  surprised  Ned  was  the  fact  that 
his  father  had  never  referred  to  The  Red  Knight. 
He  seemed  to  have  utterly  forgotten  this  darling 
of  his  life.  Another  week  passed  and  the  old  man 
was  about.  Though  correspondence  was  pouring 
in  relative  to  the  planting  and  culture  of  the  new 
wheat,  Edward  Pullar  evinced  no  interest  in  the 
matter.  The  heavy  task  of  writing  fell  upon  Ned. 
All  efforts  to  rouse  his  father  failed.  He  seemed 
unaware  of  the  existence  of  the  thing  that  had  so 
lately  made  life  new  for  him.  At  times  an  un- 
speakable fear  swept  over  him  as  he  realized  how 
hopeless  was  this  condition  of  disinterest. 

Late  one  afternoon  Ned  was  busy  at  his  desk  in 
diligent  effort  to  reduce  the  piles  of  unanswered 
letters  when  a  knock  sounded  upon  the  door.  On 
opening,  a  strange  face  presented  itself. 

"  Come  in !  "  said  Ned  courteously. 

"  Is  this  Edward  Pullar's  ranch  ?  "  queried  the 
man  as  he  stepped  in. 

"  It  is,"  said  Ned.     "  Have  a  chair." 


HANK  FOYLE,  UNEXPECTED  GUEST    179 

The  stranger  seated  himself  and  glanced  about 
inquisitively. 

"  My  name  is  Hank  Foyle,"  said  he.  "  I  live 
up  to  Athabasca  Landing.  I  was  out  on  a  hike  in 
the  timber  limits  when  the  letter  got  to  me  telling 
me  about  the  deal.  That  is  why  I  am  a  month  late. 
I  toted  along  last  night  and  wrote  my  name  into 
the  papers  this  morning.  Thought  I'd  take  a 
squint  at  the  farm  and  buildings  before  moseying 
back  to  the  Landing.  You've  shore  got  a  comfy 
joint  here.  Buildings  first-rate." 

Ned  looked  at  his  visitor  with  a  puzzled  face. 
Into  the  old  man's  eyes  leaped  a  fear,  vacillating 
and  furtive,  but  real. 

"  I  hardly  understand,"  said  Ned  with  an  apolo- 
getic smile. 

The  other  grinned. 

"  Naturally  you  don't  know  me,"  said  the  man, 
with  a  series  of  nods.  "  I  am  the  guy  that  made 
the  swap  with  you.  Hank  Foyle's  my  name — 
Foyle  of  Athabasca  Landing." 

The  stranger  paused,  confident  that  the  reitera- 
tion of  his  name  would  clear  up  matters.  But 
Ned  still  looked  at  him  with  a  nonplussed  expres- 
sion. His  father's  face  had  grown  white  while 
the  nails  of  the  old  man's  clenched  hands  dug  into 
the  flesh. 

"  Sorry  I'm  so  dense,"  said  Ned,  with  a  good- 
natured  laugh.  "  Would  you  mind  going  into  de- 
tail a  little?  " 


180  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

Foyle  looked  at  him  keenly,  studying  the  firm 
mouth  and  chin  and  the  direct  eyes.  There  was 
something  fearless  in  that  face  that  hinted  the  pos- 
sibility of  a  serious  hitch. 

"  You  ain't  changed  your  mind  ?  "  said  Foyle, 
with  a  narrowing  of  his  eyelids.  "  You're  a 
month  late,  farmer.  The  deal's  salted  away  long 
ago,  all  regular  signed  and  witnessed.  You  are 
no  soft  come-back,  are  you?  " 

Ned  still  smiled  his  perplexed  smile. 

"  Very  well!  "  said  he  affably.  "  What  is  the 
deal  to  which  you  refer?  I'm  open  to  rather  de- 
tailed explanation,  for  I  have  heard  of  no  such 
project." 

The  man  rose  and  stepped  up  to  Ned,  looking 
curiously  into  his  face. 

"  Say,  Pard,"  said  he  quizzically,  "  are  you 
Edward  Pullar  or  just  plain  hired  man?  " 

"  There  is  Edward  Pullar,"  said  Ned,  pointing 
to  his  father.  "  He  is  owner  of  this  farm." 

"You  mean  the  man  as  was  owner,"  cor- 
rected Foyle.  "This  half  section  belongs  to  me 
now." 

As  he  spoke  he  looked  at  the  old  man. 

"  You're  the  Edward  Pullar  person  what's 
scratched  his  name  on  them  agreements  ?  "  was  his 
observation  as  he  studied  the  other  contempla- 
tively. "  What's  eating  you  now  ?  " 

Ned  was  surprised  to  see  a  look  of  terror  dart 
from  his  father's  eyes.  There  was  a  confusion 


HANK  FOYLE,  UNEXPECTED  GUEST    181 

about  the  manner  of  the  old  man  that  caused  a  lit- 
tle alarm  in  Ned  himself. 

"  I — I  don't  understand,"  said  Edward  Pullar 
helplessly. 

At  his  words  an  angry  flush  darkened  Foyle's 
face. 

"  Like  the  hired  man,  here,  you  ain't  wise  to  the 
deal,  eh  ?  "  There  was  a  note  of  derision  in  his 
voice.  "  Better  put  it  straight,"  said  he,  with  a 
shutting  of  his  jaws.  "  You  mean  you  don't  want 
to  understand.  Getting  foxy,  old  boy?  It  won't 
do,  farmer.  You  can't  string  Hank  Foyle.  You'll 
have  to  tumble  to  facts.  Hank  Foyle  shuts  up 
like  a  clam;  sticks  like  a  leech.  Noted  for  it. 
Your  farm's  mine  and  mine's  yours,  and  you  are 
due  in  Athabasca  Landing  agin  the  crops  are  in. 
That's  what  the  paper  says.  You  plant  the  crop 
here.  I  plant  it  at  the  Landing.  Then  we  swaps 
farms  and  hikes  for  home.  You'll  have  a  whole 
section  a  scrub  to  wander  through  a-lookin'  fur  the 
cows." 

"You  are  on  the  wrong  farm,"  said  the  old 
man  weakly.  "  We  have  not  entered  any  such 
deal." 

"  You're  Edward  Pullar,  what  owned  this 
place  ? "  quizzed  Foyle,  with  an  impudent  grin. 
"  You  haven't  said  so  yet." 

"  I  am  Edward  Pullar,"  was  the  acknowledg- 
ment. 

"  I    reckon   there   ain't    two    Edward    Pullars. 


182  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

Therefore  I  conclude  there  ain't  any  mistake 
either." 

Deliberately  Foyle  drew  a  package  from  his 
pocket.  Drawing  out  two  papers  he  opened  them 
carefully  and,  stooping,  held  them  before  the  old 
man. 

"  Them's  the  real  thing,"  said  Foyle  casually. 
"  Take  a  good,  long  squint.  You'll  find  every- 
thing proper." 

Edward  Pullar  examined  the  documents.  They 
were,  indeed,  agreements  of  surrender  and  ex- 
change signed  by  Foyle  and  a  signature  that  was 
undoubtedly  his  own.  The  transaction  was  duly 
witnessed  by  Silas  Marshall,  magistrate.  The  old 
man  stared  at  the  papers,  striving  to  catch  the 
flying  tags  of  mystery.  Things  seemed  to  clear 
a  little,  resulting,  however,  in  deeper  depres- 
sion. 

"  I  did  not  sign  it,"  said  he  dazedly. 

"  Here,  hired  man,"  said  Foyle,  handing  the 
papers  to  Ned.  "  Go  right  through  'em.  You'll 
find  them  agreements  square  as  an  eight-inch 
bent." 

Ned  looked.  A  close  study  of  the  documents 
astonished  him.  The  signature  ascribed  to  his 
father  was  clearly  his.  As  to  Silas  Marshall's 
there  could  be  no  mistake.  He  had  seen  it  many 
a  time.  A  seriousness  spread  over  his  face,  min- 
gling slowly  with  the  amazement  in  it. 

"  This  seems  all  right,"  said  he,  slowly  perusing 


HANK  FOYLE,  UNEXPECTED  GUEST    183 

the  papers.  "  But — but,  of  course,  these  papers 
are  simply  evidences  of  some  fraud." 

The  date  caught  his  eye.  In  a  lightning  play  of 
thought  he  associated  the  mystery  with  the  tragic 
trip  to  Pellawa.  He  straightened  up  and  his  chin 
rounded  in  a  decisive  firmness. 

"  Do  you  remember  having  anything  to  do  with 
Cy  Marshall,  Dad  ?  "  was  his  quiet  question. 

"  I  do  not,"  was  the  unhesitating  reply.  "  And 
yet  there  is  something  familiar  about  it  all,  even 
those  papers.  I  feel  positive  I  have  seen  them 
before." 

"  Just  possible !  "  commented  Foyle  insolently. 
"  Probably  caught  a  peep  of  'em  about  the  time 
you  scrawled  yer  name." 

"  What  agent  put  this  through  ?  "  demanded 
Ned  of  Foyle. 

"  No  kidding,"  was  the  fierce  response.  "  You 
know  all  right.  Sykes  is  the  gent — Chesley  Sykes 
— and  a  hum-dinger  of  an  agent  he  is !  " 

Ned's  eyes  flamed  upon  the  man. 

"  It  is  what  I  feared,"  said  he,  smiling  the  smile 
with  which  he  faced  McClure  and  his  men  in 
Sparrow's  pool-room.  "  Here,  take  this  rubbish, 
Mr.  Foyle.  You  are  either  a  crook  or  a  dupe. 
Reddy  Sykes  has  put  through  a  real  Sykes'  deal. 
I  want  to  warn  you  that  it  is  the  fraudulent  plot 
of  a  clever  swindler.  This  farm  is  my  father's. 
I  am  Edward  Pullar.  There  are  two  of  us,  and 
we  are  going  to  fight  you.  My  father  never  signed 


184  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

away  his  homestead  voluntarily.  You  can  gain 
nothing  by  pressing  the  matter.  For  a  stranger, 
you  have  been  grossly  insulting.  Take  my  advice, 
tear  up  those  papers  and  hit  the  trail  for  Athabasca 
Landing.  You  have  about  two  minutes  to  pack 
up." 

With  a  savage  laugh  Foyle  folded  the  papers 
and  deposited  them  carefully  in  his  pocket. 

"  Pullar  and  Son,"  said  he  pugnaciously, 
"  you're  a  pair  of  dang  poor  bluffers.  But  I'll 
call  you.  There  ain't  a  flaw  in  the  deal.  This 
farm's  mine.  Come  the  time  the  grain's  in  you'll 
find  Hank  Foyle  camping " 

He  did  not  finish,  for  there  was  a  swift  motion 
on  the  part  of  Ned. 

"Sorry,  Hank!"  said  he  with  a  grin.  "But 
time's  precious.  Open  the  door,  Dad." 

With  a  wild  laugh  Foyle  swung  for  the  smiling 
face.  Ned  ducked  and  Foyle  missed  and  contin- 
ued the  swing,  the  force  of  his  empty  blow  spin- 
ning him  around.  When  he  had  half  completed 
the  circle  he  felt  himself  seized  by  the  scruff  of  the 
neck  and  the  seat  of  his  trousers  and  lifted  high 
by  the  powerful  derricks  of  Ned's  arms.  Through 
the  door  he  was  carried  with  arms  windmilling 
and  legs  kicking,  and  dropped  ignominiously  into 
the  cold  receptacle  of  a  melting  drift.  As  he 
scrambled  to  his  feet  he  heard  the  door  shut.  For 
a  moment  he  hesitated,  savaged  with  rage.  But 
the  memory  of  those  steel  arms  was  salutary,  and 


HANK  FOYLE,  UNEXPECTED  GUEST    185 

he  turned  about  and  walked  down  the  lane.  For 
a  mile  or  more  there  were  mutterings  filling  the 
air  about  him  such  as  would  come  fittingly  from 
an  Athabasca  Lander  on  landing  unexpectedly. 

For  a  long  time  after  Foyle's  exit  there  was 
silence  in  the  room.  The  two  men  were  thinking 
hard.  The  last  hour  had  been  one  of  revelation 
to  them  both.  Ned  looked  up  about  to  speak,  but 
desisted,  hushed  by  the  sight  that  met  his  eyes. 
His  father  sat  huddled  in  a  rocking-chair,  his  face 
buried  in  his  hands.  A  pang  pierced  Ned  as  he 
realized  the  pitiable  state  of  his  father's  mind. 

Walking  over,  he  laid  his  hand  gently  on  the 
bowed  head. 

"  Never  mind,  Dad,"  said  he  cheerily.  "  Reddy 
Sykes  is  not  going  to  steal  the  homestead  so  easily. 
Of  the  foul  work  we  are  positive.  We  have  only 
to  track  it  down.  We  have  until  June  to  ferret  out 
the  rogues.  You  made  a  good  fight,  Dad.  You 
were  drugged.  I  have  known  that  ever  since  I 
found  you  on  the  hill." 

Raising  his  head  he  looked  at  Ned.  Through 
the  misery  of  grief  there  was  a  pathetic  eagerness. 

"  Do — do  you  believe — I  put  up  a  fight,  lad- 
die ?  "  was  the  trembling  plea. 

"  I  do,  Dad,"  was  the  swift  response.  More 
Ned  could  not  say,  but  he  enveloped  his  father  in 
a  strong,  steady  embrace,  tenderly  holding  the 
gray  head  that  sobbed  upon  his  breast.  His  eyes 
were  wet.  What  they  wanted  just  then  was  Kitty 
Belaire. 


XVIII 
THE  BIRD  OF  THE  COULEE 

THERE  is  life  on  the  road — a  rush  into 
the  April  shine;  muffled  clatter  of  gallop- 
ing hoofs;  the  rhythmic  sway  of  a  girlish 
form  to  the  drum  and  flute  of  flying  feet  and  car- 
olling lips.  Youth  and  beauty  in  the  saddle  of 
spring ! 

Mary  McClure  was  enjoying  the  leisure  of  the 
open  trail  and  halted  Bobs  on  the  floor  of  a  coulee, 
a  narrow,  stream-like  depression  with  abrupt  banks. 
It  was  a  pretty  green  dip  zigzagging  out  of  sight 
into  east  and  west,  and  lined  on  either  bank  with 
rounded  clumps  of  willow.  There  were  gleams  of 
a  tiny  creek.  From  the  willows  near  her  came  the 
soft  twitter  of  nesting  birds.  Restraining  the  im- 
patient Bobs,  she  strove  to  discern  the  sweet 
singers.  The  cries  were  familiar — all  but  one.  It 
was  a  strange  little  call  with  a  plaintive,  human-like 
wail  and  a  ventriloquistic  quality  that  led  one  to 
think  it  came  from  far  away.  She  was  positive  it 
was  the  cry  of  some  rare  bird  hidden  in  the  leaves. 

Swinging  Bobs  she  trotted  close  to  the  trees. 
The  birds,  alarmed,  took  flight  down  the  coulee. 
She  followed  cautiously  and  listened  again,  de- 

186 


THE  BIED  OF  THE  COULEE  187 

lighted  at  length  to  distinguish  the  voice  of  the 
feathered  stranger.  A  sudden  impulsive  advance 
of  Bobs,  who  essayed  to  crop  a  mouthful  of  leaves, 
put  the  birds  to  flight  once  more.  They  doubled 
back  in  a  cloud  of  whirring  wings.  She  was  about 
to  follow  when  the  cry  of  the  strange  bird  came 
again  out  of  the  tree  before  her.  It  alone  had  re- 
mained. She  searched  the  tree,  but  no  sign  could 
she  discover  of  the  mysterious  creature.  Conclud- 
ing at  length  that  the  sound  came  from  a  more  dis- 
tant clump,  she  rode  further  into  the  east.  The 
sound  now  seemed  much  nearer.  Tree  after  tree 
was  passed,  with  the  strangely  recurring  result  of 
a  growing  clearness.  She  was  deeply  puzzled  and 
intensely  curious  as  to  the  enigma.  Finally  she 
reached  the  end  of  the  bluff  and  still  she  could 
hear  the  call  coming  with  an  undoubted  increase 
of  volume.  Pondering  the  circumstance  she  sud- 
denly concluded  that  her  bird  was  a  weird  illusion. 

"  Bobs !  "  she  cried  perplexedly,  "  our  bird  is 
not  a  bird.  It  is  a  disembodied  voice." 

Then  as  the  cry  broke  clearly  from  a  distance, 
she  said  in  alarm : 

"  It  is  a  human  voice,  Bobs.  Somebody  is  in 
distress  far  down  the  coulee.  Let  us  listen  care- 
fully. No  champing  of  that  bit,  please." 

The  voice  came  again.  It  was  indeed  a  human 
cry,  smothered  in  some  inexplicable  way.  The 
tone  was  one  of  plaintive  terror.  Urging  the 
horse  ahead,  she  cantered  along  the  creek.  Round- 


188  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

ing  a  bend,  she  realized  that  the  sound  came  from 
some  point  very  near.  Rising  in  her  stirrups,  she 
searched  the  coulee.  The  only  unusual  object 
that  met  her  eye  was  the  carcass  of  a  horse.  It  lay 
in  a  sharp  curve  of  the  north  bank  close  in.  The 
noise  was  emanating  from  the  vicinity  of  the  dead 
animal.  Riding  toward  it,  she  was  thrilled  to 
catch  sight  of  a  bit  of  red  clothing. 

"Bobs,  Bobs!  What  a  terrible  thing!"  was 
her  horrified  cry  as  she  leaped  to  the  ground  beside 
the  horse. 

Crowded  into  a  hole  between  the  horse  and  the 
bank  lay  the  figure  of  a  little  boy,  scarcely  five 
years  of  age.  He  was  stretched  upon  the  ground 
with  his  small  body  half  twisted  into  the  bank. 
His  bare  limbs,  right  arm  and  left  leg,  were 
clutched  in  the  steel  fangs  of  a  brace  of  great  wolf 
traps.  The  dead  horse  had  been  used  as  a  bait  by 
some  trapper  who  had  set  his  traps  between  the 
horse  and  bank,  at  head  and  feet,  in  order  to  catch 
his  wolf  as  it  sought  the  entrails.  Instead  they  had 
caught  the  curious  child.  Both  limbs  were  torn 
and  bloody  from  the  grip  of  the  biting  steel  as  the 
boy  twisted  under  the  torture.  His  cry  for  help 
had  been  muffled  by  the  encroaching  bank. 

The  little  fellow  moaned  for  release  as  he  caught 
sight  of  the  girl.  Looking  up  with  wild,  dazed 
eyes  he  cried : 

"  Take  me,  Mummie !    Take  me  away !  " 

"  You  poor  laddie !  "  comforted  the  girl.     "  I 


THE  BIED  OF  THE  COULEE  189 

will  help  you,  darling.  You  will  be  out  in  a  min- 
ute. Do  just  what  I  say." 

The  sight  of  the  small  unfortunate  made  a  pow- 
erful appeal  to  the  sympathies.  The  little  face  was 
streaked  with  the  pitiable  wash  of  tears.  The 
child  could  scarcely  see.  At  a  glance  she  saw  that 
he  was  near  collapse.  She  acted  swiftly.  Placing 
her  foot  upon  the  spring  of  the  trap  imprisoning 
the  leg,  she  rested  her  whole  weight  upon  it  and 
it  sank.  With  a  quick  motion  of  her  deft  fingers 
she  opened  the  jaws  and  took  out  the  limb.  A  mo- 
ment later  the  arm,  too,  was  free.  Released,  the 
little  form  rolled  upon  its  back  and  lay  helpless. 
Stooping  she  picked  him  up  gently  and  carried  him 
to  the  bank  of  the  creek,  laying  him  upon  the 
grass. 

"  Lie  here  quiet,  laddie,'*  she  enjoined  in  a 
soothing  voice,  "  and  I'll  ride  back  to  the  village 
for  a  carriage.  I'll  be  back  in  a  few  minutes." 

But  the  child  clung  to  her  crying  fearfully: 

"  Take  me !    Take  me !    Brubbie  afraid !  " 

Kneeling  beside  him  she  gathered  the  small 
bundle  into  her  arms. 

"  I  will  not  leave  you,  darling,"  she  soothed, 
hushing  his  fears.  "  I  will  take  you  with  me. 
Bobs  will  have  to  be  a  very  gentle  stretcher  bearer. 
You  must  trust  me,  little  one,  and  be  careful  to 
obey  me.  Bobs  will  carry  us  back.  But  first  I 
must  cover  these  poor  torn  limbs." 

Producing  clean  bandages,  with  the  resource  of 


190  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

a  former  occasion,  she  wrapped  the  wounds  se- 
curely from  air  and  dirt.  Then  she  placed  the  boy 
upon  Bobs'  neck  while  the  intelligent  brute  stood 
motionless,  obedient  to  her  low  voiced  commands. 
Climbing  carefully  into  the  saddle  she  took  the 
child  in  her  arms  and  guiding  Bobs  by  voice  and 
knee,  rode  back  along  the  coulee.  The  child  slept 
almost  instantly,  lulled  by  the  gentle  pace  of  the 
horse  and  endearing  cooings  of  the  girl. 

Aware  that  the  surgeon's  skill  was  urgently 
needed,  she  made  her  way  to  the  doctor's  office. 
He  discovered  her  approach  and  running  out 
to  the  curb  relieved  her  of  her  burden.  In  a  few 
words  she  informed  him  of  her  discovery  of  the 
boy  and  his  misfortune. 

"  Will  you  come  in  ? "  said  he.  "  You  have  done 
wonderfully  and  can  help  me  with  this  operation. 
There  is  no  nurse  in  the  village  just  now." 

"  Gladly,  if  I  can  be  of  service,"  was  the  quick 
reply. 

"  Rest  assured  you  can.  With  your  assistance 
I  shall  be  able  to  avoid  the  anaesthetic,  though 
these  wounds  are  a  ragged  mess.  The  poor  little 
kid  must  have  lain  in  those  traps  for  hours. 
Pierre  Leduc  set  them  out  for  wolves.  These 
curious  little  busybodies  fall  into  surprising  ad- 
ventures. Brubbie  will  not  forget  this  day  for  the 
rest  of  his  life." 

Swiftly  the  doctor  performed  his  work,  clean- 
ing the  frayed  lacerations  and  stitching  with 


THE  BIED  OF  THE  COULEE  191 

nimble  address,  while  Mary  beguiled  the  boy  from 
his  pain  by  the  charm  of  her  caress  and  the  sooth- 
ing touch  of  her  woman's  hand. 

"  There  now,  Brubbie !  "  said  the  doctor  at 
length.  "  You  are  fit.  Come,  we'll  take  you  to 
your  mother.  Miss  McClure  had  better  come  along 
and  take  charge  of  this  most  difficult  phase  of  the 
operation.  Will  you,  Miss  McClure?  " 

"  Still  at  your  service,  Doctor.  But  who  is 
Brubbie,  as  you  call  him?  " 

"  Brubbie  ?  Why,  Brubbie  is  the  young  scamp 
of  Pellawa,  general  town  favourite  and  Nick 
Ford's  baby.  Brubbie  is  an  incorrigible  little  va- 
grant. I'll  warrant  his  mother  hasn't  even  missed 
him.  This  will  be  some  shock  to  her." 

It  was  a  very  startled  and  white- faced  woman 
who  gathered  the  small  form  to  her  breast. 

"  Mummie,  Mummie ! "  was  the  penitent  cry. 
"  Brubbie  run  away.  He  step  on  traps  and  dey 
bite  him.  Brubbie  think  he  will  die  and  cry,  cry, 
cry.  But  the  leddy  come  and  take  Brubbie  out  of 
the  traps  and  bring  him  home  on  the  nice  horse. 
Oo,  oo !" 

He  encircled  the  woman's  neck  with  a  stran- 
gling hug. 

Mary  smiled,  relieved  that  the  explanation  had 
been  made. 

"  Brubbie  has  given  you  all  the  facts,  Mrs. 
Ford,"  corroborated  she.  "  I  heard  the  cry  of  a 
strange  bird  in  the  coulee  and  followed  it.  The 


192  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

bird  turned  out  to  be  Brubbie.  Bobs  carried  him 
to  the  doctor  here,  who  has  fixed  him  up  splen- 
didly. He  will  soon  be  around  again." 

The  mother  was  dumb.  For  some  minutes  she 
could  only  nestle  the  child  to  her  breast.  Sud- 
denly, as  she  thought  upon  the  circumstance,  a 
shudder  swept  her.  A  gruesome  possibility  had 
occurred  to  her. 

"  What  would  have  happened  to  my  baby  if  you 
had  not  heard  him  crying,  Miss  McClure?  To- 
night the  wolves  would  have  come.  God  bless  you 
for  this." 

The  woman's  eyes  filled  with  tears.  Under  the 
impulse  of  her  natural  gratitude  she  seized  the 
girl's  hand  and  kissed  it  reverently. 

"  You  saved  Brubbie !  You  saved  him !  You 
saved  him !  "  she  cried  again  and  again,  in  a  quiet, 
grateful  voice.  "  Nick  will  thank  you  with  all  his 
heart.  Cod  bless  you !  " 

As  Mary  passed  through  the  coulee  on  her  way 
home,  she  pulled  Bobs  again  and  listened  to  the 
birds  afresh.  This  time  the  strange  call  was  miss- 
ing and  a  serious  look  crept  into  the  girl's  eyes  as 
she  thought  upon  it. 

"  Little  birds!  "  she  whispered.  "  Happy  little 
birds!  Your  sweet  singing  saved  a  dear  little  life 
to-day." 

The  happiest  musings  attended  her  as  she  let 
Bobs  follow  the  trail  of  his  own  sweet  will.  The 
mission  of  the  birds  was  not  yet  ended. 


XIX 
CHESLEY  SYKES  UNCOVERS  HIS  HAND 

THE  night  of  the  day  upon  which  Mary 
McClure  hunted  the  bird  of  the  coulee, 
an  interesting  council  was  held  in  the 
realty  office  of  Reddy  Sykes.  The  councillors 
comprised  McClure,  Foyle  and  the  agent  himself. 
They  sat  about  the  flat-topped  desk,  three  shadows 
in  the  blue  fog  of  the  dim  lamplight.  There  were 
the  usual  convivial  evidences,  Foyle  having  been 
the  first  to  arrive  at  that  affable  condition  obtain- 
ing in  the  mazy  borderlands  of  sobriety  and  in- 
ebriety. 

"  Pards ! "  said  he,  smashing  the  desk  with  his 
open  hand,  "  I'm  taking  yer  lead  and  tickled  to  do 
it.  Yer  shore  handing  me  the  whole  deck.  I'll  see 
that  Ford  gets  his  little  share  all  right  and  a  bit 
over." 

"You've  tumbled,  Foyle,"  replied  Sykes. 
"  You  have  been  mighty  apt  at  getting  the  hang 
of  things.  You  have  nothing  to  do  but  sit  tight. 
I  give  my  cheerful  and  professional  guarantee 
there  isn't  a  flaw  in  the  deal.  If  Pullar  is  fool 
enough  to  hold  you  off  we'll  turn  on  the  screw 
and  evict  him.  The  law  is  the  prettiest,  most  ef- 

193 


194  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

ficient  automatic  instrument  invented  by  the  genius 
of  that  good  fellow,  man.  The  law  is  behind  us 
everywhere.  Don't  you  do  any  talking.  Mean- 
while, mosey  around  and  make  yourself  generally 
useful.  That  bunch  of  scrub  out  of  Athabasca 
Landing  won't  need  your  tender  offices  any  more. 
Leave  it  to  Pullar  and  Son.  They  are  mighty  good 
farmers." 

"  Ha !  That's  the  big  noise !  "  agreed  Foyle, 
with  a  chuckle.  "  I've  taken  to  the  climate  here- 
abouts. Got  to  stay.  Doctor's  orders.  Ha,  ha! 
You'll  find  Hank  Foyle  sticking  around  any  old 
time  you  want  him." 

"  You're  a  good  sort,"  commended  Sykes 
warmly.  "  I'll  want  the  help  of  a  reliable  man  in 
a  day  or  two.  In  fact  I'll  want  you  bad,  Hank." 

"  Put  it  here,"  cried  Foyle,  springing  to  his  feet 
with  extended  hand.  "  I'm  spoiling  for  exercise. 
Used  to  scrubbing,  you  know.  Anything  you  want 
done  kind  of  quiet-like  just  drop  a  wink." 

"  Hank,  you're  a  game  sport,"  was  the  hearty 
response.  Then  he  added:  "You're  a  marked 
man.  I'll  trail  you  when  I  want  you.  And  now, 
this  ends  our  confab  for  the  present.  Rob  and  I 
have  a  pile  of  work  to  go  through  before  we  get 
out  of  here  to-night.  You  are  overdue  at  the  Do- 
minion House.  Bye,  bye! " 

Foyle  laughed  good-naturedly. 

"  I'll  scoot,"  said  he.  "  And  don't  forget  I'm 
handy  when  you  want  a  leg  up." 


CHESLET  SYKES  UNCOVERS  HIS  HAND   195 

For  a  considerable  time  after  he  left  there  was 
silence  between  the  partners.  Then  McClure  fixed 
his  eyes  curiously  on  Sykes.  There  was  something 
in  his  companion's  eyes  he  had  never  seen  there 
before.  He  instantly  realized  that  something  mo- 
mentous was  being  debated  in  the  mind  of  the 
agent. 

"  Pulling  a  bluff  on  Hank  just  now  ?  "  was  his 
quizz. 

"  Better  have  an  eye-opener,  Rob,"  was  the  re- 
ply, as  he  pushed  a  glass  and  bottle  to  his  com- 
panion's elbow.  "  You  are  keen  enough  on  some 
things  and  mighty  dense  on  others.  I  have  a  sur- 
prise for  you.  In  a  few  days  I  am  pulling  down 
my  shingle." 

McClure  knit  his  eyebrows  in  perplexity. 

"  This  is  one  thing  you've  been  hopelessly 
opaque  on,  Rob,"  said  he  as  he  casually  filled  his 
own  glass.  "  Did  you  expect  I  had  come  to  stay  ?  " 

"  No-o,"  was  the  slow  reply.  "  I  knew  you  had 
a  card  up  your  sleeve.  I  hold  no  hand  in  the 
game." 

Sykes  smiled. 

"  A  clear  case  of  cobwebs,"  observed  the  other 
to  himself.  "  You  are  in  this  game  very  much  and 
have  been  all  along.  There  will  be  nothing  ob- 
scure in  your  mind  as  to  my  intentions  when  I'm 
through  with  you  to-night.  Since  the  onus  of 
revelation  is  upon  me  you  will  maintain  a  purely 
receptive  attitude.  This  is  coming  to  me. 


196  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

"  Now  to  begin.  Here  are  some  photographs. 
You  have  heard  of  John  Sykes,  millionaire 
broker  ?  Here  he  is  and  there  is  the  mater.  This 
is  our  hang-out  on  the  Crescent.  John  Sykes  is  a 
rather  close  relative  of  mine.  Here  is  the  pro- 
spectus of  Sykes  and  Sykes,  the  new  partnership 
replacing  John  Sykes.  I  hold  a  third  of  the  stock, 
the  old  man  the  balance." 

Sykes  paused  while  the  other  was  examining  the 
photographs.  McClure  was  visibly  impressed. 
The  faces  looking  at  him  were  handsomely  auto- 
cratic. John  Sykes  had  a  set  to  his  jaw  that  was 
familiar. 

"  They  have  some  class,"  said  he,  handing  back 
the  photographs.  "  This  looks  like  the  firm  may 
have  a  pretty  tidy  turnover." 

He  continued  to  make  a  careful  perusal  of  the 
prospectus. 

"  Cold  figures,"  agreed  Sykes.  "  We  have  the 
best  connections,  private  wires  through  to  Lon- 
don, New  York,  etc.,  all  of  which  means  a  big 
place  in  the  financial  world.  Here  are  our  rat- 
ings." 

McClure  looked  them  over,  his  eyes  evincing 
the  most  intense  interest.  Before  he  could  speak 
Sykes  thrust  into  his  hand  a  paper. 

"  A  little  bit  of  Who's  Who?  Read  it  over;  it 
will  acquaint  you  with  public  opinion.  It  speaks 
well  of  us." 

As  McClure  finished  he  looked  up,  his  eye  fas- 


CHESLEY  SYKES  UNCOVERS  HIS  HAND  197 

cinated  by  some  alluring  mental  object.  Sykes 
was  sitting  back  nonchalantly  in  his  swivel  chair, 
his  partially  emptied  glass  poised  in  his  hand.  He 
observed  his  companion  with  a  smile. 

"  What  do  you  make  of  it  all  ?  "  was  his  ques- 
tion. 

"  It  is  a  great  surprise  to  me  and  yet — I  long 
ago  surmised  something  like  this.  I  knew  of  John 
Sykes  as  a  prominent  financier,  but  had  not  the 
faintest  idea  there  was  any  connection  between 
you." 

"  There  may  not  be,"  said  Sykes,  with  a  peculiar 
laugh.  "  I  may  be  faking.  It  would  be  easy  to 
frame  up  a  setting  like  this." 

McClure  shook  his  head. 

"  You  look  too  much  like  John  Sykes.  He  is 
the  only  man  I  have  ever  seen  with  a  jaw  like 
yours." 

Sykes  laughed  silently  at  the  personal  allusion 
as  he  handed  over  another  photograph. 

"  Here,"  said  he,  "  is  a  picture  the  mater  in- 
sisted on  having." 

It  was  a  likeness  of  himself  and  his  mother. 

"  I'll  complete  this  personal  art  exhibition  by 
troubling  you  to  run  through  this  folio." 

It  was  a  set  of  athletic  photographs,  splendid 
pictures  of  an  eight-oared  crew.  In  the  first  a  su- 
perb figure  stood  before  him  holding  a  long  scull. 
In  the  second  the  athlete  was  seated  in  a  single 
shell,  his  sculls  poised  for  the  long  sweep.  There 


198  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

were  others  of  the  "  Eight "  in  various  poses  of 
rest  and  action,  several  with  the  setting  of  foreign 
regattas.  One  caught  the  crew  sweeping  along  the 
Thames.  The  athlete  was  Sykes. 

"  McClure !  "  said  he  seriously,  "  I  had  a  fairly 
free  fling  in  the  younger  days.  But  I  kept  the  go- 
ing under  hand.  Do  you  think  the  type  of  physical 
man  you  see  there  would  go  very  far  wrong  ?  " 

McClure  laughed  in  some  embarrassment. 

"  No  use  putting  such  a  decision  up  to  me,"  said 
he.  "  But  you  shape  up  prime  in  your  racing 
stumps." 

"  That  will  do,"  commented  Sykes  with  a  grin. 
"  The  art  display  is  over.  You  may  think  this 
irrelevant  to  the  business  in  hand.  Perhaps  it  is. 
At  any  rate  keep  everything  you  have  learned  in 
the  back  of  your  head  while  I  spiel  a  bit. 

"  You  are  right  in  your  guess.  I  am  not  in 
Pellawa  to  push  petty  finance.  I  am  here  hunting 
the  biggest  game  that  runs.  We  have  been  asso- 
ciated in  some  rustic  ventures  and  they  have  not 
all  come  through.  Forget  it.  These  have  been 
.trivial  undertakings.  Study  that  Who's  Who? 
and  you'll  find  that  I  get  every  big  thing  I  go  after. 
I  am  after  the  biggest  thing  right  now  I  have  ever 
set  out  to  lift.  You  probably  can  tell  me  what  it 
is." 

McClure  shook  his  head. 

"  I  am  not  guessing  to-night,"  said  he,  holding 
Sykes'  glance. 


CHESLEY  SYKES  UNCOVEES  HIS  HAND  199 

"  Then  prepare  for  a  sweeping  away  of  all  cob- 
webs. My  sole  object  in  this  visit  to  Pellawa, 
Rob,  is  your  daughter,  Miss  Mary  McClure.  I 
have  been  playing  the  game  for  that  stake  right 
through.  The  time  has  come  for  a  show-down. 
It  is  up  to  us  to  deal  a  new  hand.  I  have  ap- 
proached your  girl  from  every  conceivable  angle. 
She  is  obdurate.  There  is  a  mighty  good  reason. 
She  is  the  victim  of  a  silly  infatuation.  She  has 
a  local  rube." 

McClure  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"  It's  a  lie !  "  was  the  swift  retort. 

Sykes  smiled  darkly,  shaking  his  head. 

'*  No,  Rob,  this  is  not  hearsay.  This  is  personal 
knowledge.  I  hold  the  facts  and  I  will  lay  them 
before  you — later.  There  is  this  infatuation. 
These  youthful  attachments  seldom  result  in 
happy  matrimonial  alliances.  This  amour  is  no 
more  promising  than  any  other.  It  is  not  disturb- 
ing and  need  have  no  undesirable  results  if  we  act 
quickly.  I  am  willing  to  accept  Mary  on  any 
terms  and  by  means  of  any  expedient.  I  offer 
her  everything  a  woman  could  desire.  Give  me 
your  complete  cooperation  in  my  plan  to  gain  my 
purpose  and  I  promise  you  unheard-of  compen- 
sation. Just  a  moment !  " 

He  lifted  his  hand  silencing  McClure,  who  was 
about  to  speak. 

"  I  have  told  you  to  listen  while  I  spiel.  That 
is  the  only  thing  for  you  to  do  yet.  I  want  you  to 


200  THE  YALLEY  OF  GOLD 

be  confident  of  this.  With  Mary  as  my  wife,  she 
will  gain  everything  and  lose  nothing.  For  your- 
self it  means  a  chance  that  does  not  come  to  one 
man  in  a  million. 

"  I  have  watched  you,  Rob  McClure,  as  you 
went  to  it  in  this  world  of  small  farmers.  You 
are  too  big  a  man  for  Pellawa.  Don't  misunder- 
stand me.  I  do  not  propose  to  flatter  you.  What 
I  am  about  to  propose  is  frankly  my  own  project 
to  gain  my  personal  purposes.  Were  it  not  for 
this  I  certainly  would  not  dream  of  handing  out 
the  deal  I  am  going  to  offer  you.  But  the  fact 
remains.  You  have  the  gray  matter  to  come 
through  if  you  decide  to  avail  yourself  of  this  op- 
portunity. You  will  be  at  home  in  the  big  financial 
world.  Take  a  look  at  that  rating." 

He  handed  his  companion  a  certified  docu- 
ment. 

"  A  third  of  that  is  mine.  That  gets  me  into 
seven  figures.  What  is  your  own  rating,  land  and 
all?" 

McClure  calculated  swiftly. 

"  Roughly,  seventy-five  thousand." 

"  Rather  a  difference !  However,  it  is  not  your 
fault.  It  is  your  fate.  You  have  done  wonder- 
fully well.  But  you  have  been  playing  a  small 
game.  I  had  the  luck  to  be  reared  in  a  bigger 
world.  The  pater  assures  me  that  I  have  added 
a  million  to  the  total  during  my  university  years 
when  I  had  been  supposedly  engaged  in  the  serious 


CHESLEY  SYKES  UNCOVERS  HIS  HAND  201 

task  of  reading  law.  You  may  think  this  egotism 
or  even  bluff.  Perhaps  it  is." 

McClure  read  the  fellow's  face.  He  was  in- 
stantly convinced  of  the  truth  of  his  words.  He 
was  silent. 

"  Now,  Rob !  "  said  Sykes,  levelling  at  the  other 
a  glance  at  once  piercing  and  calculating.  "  Take 
in  what  I  am  about  to  say.  It  means  tremendous 
things  for  you.  At  the  same  time  what  may  seem 
remarkable  to  you  is  as  nothing  to  me  compared 
with  the  big  thing  I  am  out  after.  Help  me  to 

get  this  thing  and But  wait  a  minute.  My 

rating  upsets  yours  thirty  to  one.  How  would  a 
ratio  of  fifty-fifty  place  you?  Think  in  the  totals. 
A  million  and  a  quarter !  You  will  never  reach  that 
in  this  little  world  of  Pellawa.  Never.  Yet  that 
would  be  commensurate  with  your  sheer  ability. 
Are  you  ready  to  take  in  that  dream?  Listen, 
Rob  McClure!  It  is  yours  now,  to-day.  I  have 
an  immense  mellon.  I  will  cut  that  mellon  exactly 
in  half  and  give  you  one  half  for  the  hand  of 
Mary  McClure.  I  offer  you  a  partnership  on  the 
basis  of  fifty-fifty.  To  show  that  I  mean  business, 
I  will  give  half  the  legal  grip  even  before  Mary 
becomes  my  wife.  The  balance  after.  There 
shall  be  this  one  stipulation  only.  The  partnership 
is  conditioned  on  the  fact  that  Mary  joins  hands 
with  me  in  a  legal  marriage." 

Sykes  ceased  to  talk. 

McClure    was    mute,    the    great    eyes    darting 


202  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

flames.  Sykes  knew  that  the  crucial  moment  had 
arrived.  For  months  he  had  fostered  this  friend- 
ship, spun  his  web.  Would  the  victim  break 
through  the  mesh  and  go  free?  The  farmer 
looked  at  him,  his  face  convulsed  in  conflict.  At 
one  instant  the  eagerness  of  an  overmastering  am- 
bition looked  out  craftily;  the  next  it  was  swept 
with  a  mighty  anger.  While  the  fierce  debate 
raged,  Sykes  addressed  him  in  a  low,  steadying 
voice. 

"  Rob,"  said  he  considerately,  "  this  is  a  fairly 
sizable  proposition.  Don't  make  a  snap  decision 
and  regret — anything.  Keep  the  lid  on  a  little 
longer.  You  have  not  yet  heard  all.  You  have 
not  learned  who  is  the  rube  that  has  fascinated 
Mary.  Perhaps  you  already  know  or  can  guess  ?  " 

"  I  will  not  guess,"  he  flung  out  fiercely. 
"  There  is  nothing  in  it.  If  there  had  been,  Mary 
would  have  let  me  know  long  ago.  She  has  never 
hinted  such  an  attachment." 

"You  are  logical,  Rob.  But  you  are  wrong. 
You  have  hit  the  wrong  premise.  Sometimes  a 
good  girl  is  induced  into  a  clandestine  amour.  It 
has  often  happened.  It  has  happened  now.  Un- 
sympathetic parents  are  not  auspicious  persons  in 
which  to  confide  the  tender  sentiments.  The  par- 
ent might  have  a  positive  hostility  to  the  dear  ob- 
ject of  one's  regard.  This  is  pointedly  true  in  your 
own  case.  I  know  there  is  no  love  lost  between 
you.  And  now  you  know  the  party." 


.  CHESLET  SYKES  UNCOVERS  HIS  HAND  203 

McClure  leaned  forward,  a  sudden  intelligence 
flashing  a  wild  light  in  his  eye. 

"  You  don't  mean ?  " 

McClure  read  Sykes'  cold,  bright  eyes.  He  un- 
derstood. 

"It  is  Ned  Pullar?" 

"  Pullar's  the  man,  Ned  Pullar,"  was  the  de- 
liberate agreement. 

Slowly  the  indecision  vanished  from  McClure's 
face  and  in  its  place  appeared  a  black  resolution. 
A  malignant  light  darted  from  his  eyes.  Seizing 
the  neck  of  the  black  bottle  before  him,  he  clutched 
it  menacingly,  as  if  about  to  hurl  it  at  his  com- 
panion. 

"  Rather  be  excused,"  said  Sykes,  lifting  a  de- 
fensive hand.  "  Remember  I  am  not  Pullar." 

Banging  the  bottle  on  the  desk,  McClure  whirled 
about  and  began  pacing  about  the  room,  muttering 
vengeful  execration,  oblivious  apparently  of  the 
other's  presence. 

At  this  moment  of  his  fell  triumph,  the  real 
Sykes  looked  forth  once  more.  A  repulsive  de- 
light played  in  his  eyes  and  they  shut  to,  in  a  sort 
of  gloating  muse.  While  the  evil  light  glittered 
through  the  lashes,  an  unsightly  grin  contorted  his 
face,  drawing  slowly  to  a  wolfish  snarl  about 
mouth  and  nose.  The  face  was  grotesque  and 
hideous  to  look  upon.  Could  he  have  trained  one 
rational,  though  fleeting  glance  upon  that  unspeak- 
able face,  McClure  would  surely  have  been  fore- 


204  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

warned.  But  he  was  blind  with  rage.  Out  of  the 
fury  of  that  fatal  moment  flew  the  foul  bird  of  a 
pitiless  resolution.  He  chuckled  balefully.  At 
the  sound  Sykes  laughed  softly.  Ripping  out  an 
oath  McClure  whirled  about.  Thrusting  his  head 
forward  he  searched  Sykes'  face  with  blazing 
eyes.  He  was  too  slow,  however.  The  malign 
thing  had  hidden  itself  with  swift  adroitness. 
What  he  saw  was  the  open,  sympathetic  counte- 
nance of  a  gentleman. 

"  I  want  the  facts,"  challenged  McClure. 
"What  do  you  know?" 

Dissembling  his  intensity  of  interest,  Sykes  di- 
vulged what  information  he  deemed  expedient  to 
his  purpose.  The  effect  on  McClure  was  power- 
fully cumulative. 

"  Look  here,"  said  the  agent  finally,  picking  up 
a  photograph  of  the  eight-oared  crew.  "  You  did 
not  detect  this  party." 

McClure  looked  surprised  to  recognize  the  face 
of  Ned  Pullar. 

"  Our  coach  selected  Pullar  for  number  seven  to 
hold  my  oar,"  explained  Sykes.  "Until  Pullar 
caught  the  place  we  had  trouble  holding  balance. 
With  his  arrival  the  kink  smoothed  out  magically 
and  we  went  overseas  a  wonder  crew.  He  held 
my  stroke.  Pullar  is  the  only  man  who  ever  did. 
You  have  not  yet  realized  what  this  man  Pullar  is 
capable  of.  He  takes  the  inside  every  time  and 
sets  a  killing  pace.  He'll  beat  you  out  now  like  he 


CHESLEY  SYKES  UNCOVERS  HIS  HAND  205 

faded  you  in  the  threshing  game  unless  you  take 
my  way  to  kill  him.  I'll  come  across  with  the 
specific  code  any  time  you  want  it.  You  must  act 
swiftly  and  stick  it.  The  stake  is  big.  For  me, 
it  means  one  thing  only — Mary  McClure.  For 
Mary,  it  means  a  brilliant  chance.  For  you  it 
means  a  flying  start  in  the  big  world  where  big 
men  hold  the  throttle.  For  both  you  and  me  it 
means  the  smashing  of  Pullar." 

He  paused.  The  two  men  eyed  each  other,  Mc- 
Clure with  flaming,  searching  glance,  Sykes  with 
steady,  persistent  gaze  and  eyes  that  poured  upon 
the  other  the  mesmeric  power  of  will. 

"  I  have  had  my  say,"  said  Sykes  quietly,  hold- 
ing that  compelling  glance.  "  I  have  been  straight. 
It  is  up  to  you." 

For  a  long  time  there  was  silence  in  the  room. 
Then  McClure  spoke  slowly,  weighing  each  word, 
held  from  a  full  committal  by  some  sudden  instinct 
of  caution. 

"  I  believe  you,  Sykes,"  was  his  low-voiced  ad- 
mission. "At  present  I  don't  see  anything  against 
your  plan.  But  it  is  a  big  thing,  and  you  have 
rushed  it  up  to  me.  I  want  time  to  think.  I'll 
not  say  just  now  whether  I'll  hook  up  with  your 
offer  or  not.  I  have  a  stipulation  to  hand  you  be- 
fore we  go  ahead.  You  must  see  the  chit  your- 
self and  make  her  a  fair  proposition.  Put  it 
straight  to  her  and  make  it  as  rosy  as  you  can. 
If  she  throws  you  down  I'll  probably  take  a  hand." 


206  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

Sykes  nodded  his  head  in  reluctant  acquiescence. 

"Very  well,"  said  he.  "I'll  meet  you.  I'll 
talk  to  the  little  girl,  though  I  know  it  will  do  no 
good.  It  may  stampede  her  into  some  decision 
that  will  queer  our  game.  She  is  no  fool." 

"I  insist,"  said  McClure  firmly.  "Get  busy. 
In  the  meantime  I'll  catch  my  feet.  For  to-night 
I  have  had  enough." 

Seizing  his  hat,  McClure  took  his  abrupt  de- 
parture. 

As  he  shut  the  door  Sykes  put  out  the  lamp. 
Taking  a  cigarette  from  his  pocket  he  struck  a 
match  and  proceeded  to  light  it.  In  the  red  glow 
his  face  seemed  to  float  out  of  the  black  pall  of  the 
night,  an  impish  thing  from  the  pit.  The  grin  of 
the  wolf  snarled  off  the  lips  as  they  opened  to  emit 
a  soft,  chuckling  laugh. 


XX 

A  FAWN  AT  BAY 

THE  following  afternoon  Mary  McClure 
sat  pensively  at  her  piano,  her  spirit 
awander  in  the  dulcet  shadowlands  of 
an  improviso.  She  was  pondering  a  remarkable 
thing.  At  that  moment  her  parents  were  out  for 
a  jaunt  in  the  Valley,  the  first  in  years.  She  re- 
called the  pleasure  lighting  her  mother's  face  as 
she  accepted  the  unique  proposal.  Hope  of  hap- 
pier relations  had  stirred  in  her  breast.  For  all 
the  bright  little  circumstance  there  was  a  query  in 
Mary's  mind  that  drew  minor  strains  from  the 
plaintive  piano. 

It  was  some  weeks  since  she  had  seen  Ned 
Pullar.  They  had  then  agreed  to  terminate  their 
covert  meetings,  hoping  for  a  turn  in  the  wheel  of 
fate  that  would  be  auspicious.  She  was  deeply 
troubled  over  rumours  that  hinted  embarrassment 
for  Ned  and  his  father.  She  had  not  learned  the 
true  facts  but  had  drawn  shrewd  deductions  from 
the  reports  of  Mrs.  Grundy.  Lately  a  fear  had 
obsessed  her.  She  tried  to  banish  the  thought  in 
view  of  the  glad  incident  of  the  afternoon,  but 

207 


208  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

those  minor  vagaries  would  persist  in  stealing 
from  her  fingers. 

A  chat  with  Margaret  Grant  had  informed  her 
of  the  presence  of  the  stranger  Foyle  as  inimical 
to  Ned.  The  old  homestead  was  in  some  way 
involved.  Shortly  after  her  chat  with  Margaret 
she  had  observed  her  father  in  friendly  conversa- 
tion with  Foyle  before  the  office  of  Chesley  Sykes. 
At  the  sight  a  shadow  had  flitted  through  her 
mind.  Was  her  father  involved  in  Ned's  trou- 
ble? 

She  had  abandoned  herself  to  a  sombre  brood- 
ing upon  this  disquieting  theme  when  a  knock 
sounded  upon  the  door.  It  startled  her,  for  she 
was  alone.  Lifting  her  hands  from  the  keys,  she 
went  to  the  door.  On  opening  she  was  confronted 
with  the  great  figure  of  Chesley  Sykes.  A  smile 
lit  his  handsome  face.  Touching  his  hat  with 
graceful  courtesy,  he  greeted  her  respectfully. 

"  Good-day,  Miss  McClure !  "  was  his  quiet  sa- 
lute. 

At  the  sound  of  his  voice  the  episode  at  the  door 
flashed  into  her  mind.  She  regretted  the  absence 
of  her  parents. 

Hospitality  forbade  rudeness  and  she  invited 
him  within. 

"  I  have  come  to  see  you,  yourself,"  said  he, 
smiling  at  her  formality.  "  I  am  heartily  glad 
there  is  nobody  else  about.  I  have  been  anxious 
to  crave  your  pardon  for  my  part  in  the  incident 


A  FAWN  AT  BAY  209 

at  the  door.    It  was  inexcusable  and  foolish,  I  ac- 
knowledge.    I  am  sorry." 

The  girl  looked  away  with  serious  face.  In- 
stinct warned  her  against  the  man,  but  his  tone 
and  manner  were  agreeably  penitent.  She  be- 
lieved him. 

"  I  do  not  hold  grudges,  Mr.  Sykes,"  was  her 
reply.  "  I  remember  the  matter  well  and  I  am 
glad  to  forget  it,  since  you  desire  it." 

'  That  relieves  me,"  was  the  pleased  reply.  "  I 
promise  to  observe  the  good  old  conventions  in  the 
future.  There  was  something  extenuating,  had 
you  known  it.  Have  you  no  suspicion  of  what  a 
real  fact  lay  behind  that  silly  act?  Of  that  fact  I 
am  not  ashamed." 

Mary  offered  no  surmise  and  moved  to  the  win- 
dow, where  she  became  absorbed  in  the  world 
without. 

"  I  want  to  talk  some  things  over  to-day,"  said 
he  frankly,  moving  to  her  side.  "  This  is  prob- 
ably the  last  time  I  shall  solicit  your  forbearance. 
I  am  leaving  Pellawa. 

"  You  know  of  the  college  years  and  the  un- 
swerving interest  a  certain  student  at  law  took  in 
a  certain  small  co-ed.  That  interest  had  deepened 
during  these  days  in  Pellawa.  You  and  you 
alone,  Mary  McClure,  are  the  reason  for  my  pres- 
ence here.  I  have  been  chasing  the  gleam.  I 
have  been  bitterly  disappointed.  The  rustic  life 
has  not  drawn  us  any  nearer.  And  yet — I — I 


210  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

have  not  thrown  up  the  sponge.  I  am  not  resign- 
ing you,  Mary.  That  is  my  purpose  here  to-day. 
I  want  to  let  you  know  this.  I  have  only  one  ob- 
jective, only  one  dream  in  the  alluring  puzzle 
called  life,  and  that  is,  Mary  McClure.  My  single 
ambition  is  to  win  you  for  my  wife.  Some  day, 
Mary,  will  you  marry  me?  " 

The  girl  turned  toward  him,  astounded  at  his 
impudence,  a  flush  rising  in  her  cheeks.  At  sight 
of  him  she  could  not  doubt  his  sincerity. 

"Mr.  Sykes,"  she  said  quickly,  "  you  have  no 
right  to  make  such  an  approach  to  me." 

"  Only  the  right  of  a  mighty  big  regard  that 
keeps  on  growing  without  any  especial  attention 
from  the  most  desirable  quarter." 

She  remained  silent  a  moment,  suddenly  re- 
flective. 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right,"  she  said  thoughtfully. 
"If  you  are,  you  already  know  my  answer.  I 
can  never  become  the  wife  of  Chesley  Sykes. 
Never." 

Her  manner  was  so  emphatic,  so  deliberate,  that 
the  confidence  of  the  man  received  a  jolt.  He 
heard  the  ring  of  steel  on  steel  and  looked  in  won- 
der at  the  dainty  antagonist. 

"  I  am  sure  you  will  not  approach  me  again," 
said  she  in  a  manner  he  realized  was  imperative. 
Then  she  smiled.  "  You  are  Daddy's  friend,"  said 
she,  with  a  pleasant  courtesy.  "  I  will  not  forget 
that." 


A  FAWN  AT  BAY  211 

There  followed  a  long  silence.  At  length  she 
looked  up.  His  face  was  a  surprise  to  her.  There 
was  no  vexation,  no  displeasure.  Instead,  the 
passion  of  the  man  expressed  itself  in  a  great 
friendliness.  There  was  something  else  that  dis- 
turbed her.  It  was  a  confidence,  an  assurance,  a 
determination  not  to  be  denied. 

With  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders  he  seemed  to 
throw  off  the  gloom  that  attended  his  defeat  and, 
smiling  ingenuously,  said: 

"  Play  for  me  that  sweet  thing  you  were  dream- 
ing over  when  I  broke  up  your  paradise." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  No,"  was  her  quiet  refusal.  "  I  cannot.  My 
mood  is  not  musical  any  longer.  I  hear  Father's 
bells.  He  will  be  better  able  to  entertain  you." 

"  Sorry  you  cannot  draw  to  me  to-day,"  said  he 
regretfully,  taking  up  his  hat.  "  But  your  mood 
will  change.  Some  day  you  will  take  a  delight  in 
delighting  me.  I,  myself,  am  not  now  in  a  frame 
of  mind  to  be  companionable.  It  is  better  that  I 
return  to  Pellawa.  Give  my  regards  to  your  par- 
ents. And  remember,"  enjoined  he  with  peculiar 
emphasis,  "  remember  that  I  am  still  on  the  trail 
of  my  distracting  little  Will-o'-the-wisp." 

Sykes  had  gone  but  a  few  minutes  when  Helen 
McClure  entered.  Her  face  was  flushed  and  un- 
happy. Gathering  Mary  into  her  arms,  she  kissed 
her  with  impulsive  tenderness. 

"  Whatever  happens,   darling,"   she   whispered 


212  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

hurriedly,  "  follow  your  heart.  The  happiness  of 
us  all  depends  upon  it,  though  it  may  seem  other- 
wise." 

"  Mother !  "  said  the  girl,  excitement  welling  up 
in  her  eyes.  "  How  troubled  you  are !  What  is 
it?" 

"  I  am  a  little  anxious  for  you,"  said  the  mother, 
disengaging  herself  gently  from  Mary's  clasp. 
"  Your  father  has  been  talking  to  me  of  your  pros- 
pects. He  wishes  to  see  you  in  the  office.  He  is 
coming  now.  If  you  follow  your  heart  all  will 
some  day  be  well." 

With  the  words  she  bestowed  upon  Mary  a 
clinging  caress. 

The  girl  walked  hesitantly  to  the  office  and 
stood  looking  out  of  the  window  as  she  awaited 
her  father.  She  was  threatened  with  panic  but 
grew  composed  as  she  heard  his  footsteps  in  the 
hall.  She  turned  as  he  entered  and  lifted  her 
head,  meeting  his  great  eyes  with  the  clear  gaze  of 
her  own.  He,  too,  was  steeling  himself  to  the  in- 
terview. His  unsmiling  face  distressed  her. 
Passing  by  her,  he  seated  himself  in  his  office  chair 
and  whirled  about.  Before  he  could  look  up  to 
where  she  stood  he  was  surprised  to  feel  the  touch 
of  her  hands  upon  his  head.  Enfolding  him  in 
her  arms,  she  kissed  his  brow.  A  thrill  swept  over 
him.  For  an  instant  he  looked  with  the  inner  eye 
upon  his  own  soul.  He  knew  it  to  be  unnatural, 
brutal. 


A  FAWN  AT  BAT  213 

"  Daddy !  "  she  whispered.  "  Let  me  tell  you  all 
before  you  speak." 

Gently,  but  with  a  steady,  rigid  motion  of 
his  hands,  he  pressed  her  back.  The  tender- 
ness that  had  betrayed  him  for  but  an  instant 
vanished. 

"  We'll  see  about  that  in  a  moment,"  was  the 
cold  reply.  "  I  want  to  ask  you  a  few  questions 
before  you  tell  your  story.  Sykes  tells  me  he  had 
a  talk  with  you  this  afternoon," 

"A  diplomatic  conversation,"  corrected  Mary, 
with  a  faint  smile. 

"What  did  he  say?" 

"  A  great  deal.  It  was  not,  after  all,  very  much 
of  a  conversation.  It  was  a  declaration.  I  al- 
most fancied  he  was  issuing  a  veiled  ultimatum. 
He  did,  however,  ask  me  a  pointed  question  and  I 
gave  him  a  blunt  reply." 

"You  refused  him?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Do  you  know  Sykes  ?  " 

"Too  wisely  and  too  well.  His  father  is  a 
wealthy  broker;  his  mother  a  delightful  aristocrat 
and  a  very  fashionable  lady.  They  live  in  a 
dreamland  on  The  Crescent  shut  in  with  exclusive 
hedges  amid  the  bloom  of  wonderful  flowers. 
Their  well-trimmed  terraces  run  down  to  the 
water's  edge.  Sykes  is  a  fellow-student  of  some 
years'  duration.  He  has  seemed  to  take  rather 
more  than  a  mild  interest  in  the  lone  hope  of  the 


214  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

McClures.  But  I  do  not  like  him,  Dad.  I  like 
Ned." 

"  So  they  tell  me." 

"  I  love  Ned,  Dad,"  was  the  gentle  confession. 

"  But  Sykes  is  a  gentleman,"  said  McClure 
testily. 

"  Ned  is  a  man.  I  love  a  man,  a  real  man, 
Dad." 

McClure  rose  to  his  feet,  the  old  passion  rising 
afresh. 

"  I  cannot  agree  with  you.  A  man  would  not 
sneak  into  the  bluffs  to  be  alone  with  the  girl  he 
respects." 

The  stroke  drew  blood.  A  flush  swept  over  the 
sensitive  face. 

"  I  did  meet  Ned  once  alone  by  accident,"  was 
the  admission.  "At  all  other  times  Margaret 
Grant  joined  us.  We  have  not  had  even  these  in- 
terviews for  weeks." 

"  How  long  have  you  been  encouraging  Pul- 
lar?" 

"  Ned  and  I  became  intimate  in  our  first  year  at 
the  University." 

"  Why  did  you  not  tell  me?  " 

The  girl  looked  pleadingly  into  the  eyes  that 
grew  each  moment  more  chill.  She  halted  in  her 
reply,  irresolute  and  deeply  troubled.  Had  she  the 
courage  to  drag  the  family  skeleton  into  the  light  ? 
She  dropped  her  eyes  and  pondered.  When  she 
lifted  them  they  were  wet  with  tears. 


A  FAWN  AT  BAY  215 

"  Come !  "  was  the  brusque  command.  "  Tell 
me  why  you  and  Pullar  skulk  about  the  ravines 
like  a  pair  of  coyotes." 

"The  reason  I  have  not  confided  in  you,  Fa- 
ther," said  the  girl  slowly,  "  is  because  of  your 
strange  enmity  for  Ned.  That,  however,  would 
not  have  been  a  sufficient  reason  had  it  not  been, 
for  the  cruel  thing  that  has  robbed  Mother  and  me 
of  our  husband  and  Daddy.  You  have  become  a 
stranger  to  us.  We  do  not  tell  these  dear  tales  to 
— strangers.  I  could  love  you,  Father,  if  you  did 
not  trample  our  hearts  with  your  cruel  heels." 

At  her  words  McGure  shrank  back.  He 
scarcely  believed  his  ears.  Yet  it  was  little  Mary 
who  stood  before  him  self-possessed  and  unafraid, 
smiting  his  conscience  with  her  gentle  voice.  Her 
eyes  were  imploring  and  beautiful,  with  a  yearning 
he  could  not  face.  With  an  impatient  shrug  he 
turned  away. 

"  What  would  we  have  gained,"  continued  the 
girl,  "  had  I  told  you  of  my  intimacy  with  the  man 
you  hate?  It  would  have  resulted  in  only  deeper 
misery  for  our  home.  It  is  cruel  of  me  to  talk 
like  this,  but  it  is  the  truth.  Mother  suffers  con- 
tinuous anguish,  hiding  it  from  us  as  only  her 
wonderful  love  can  devise.  This  is  my  only  rea- 
son for  loving  Ned  in  secret.  We  are  not  afraid 
to  let  the  world  know  of  it.  It  already  knows. 
As  you  well  know,  Ned  fears  nothing,  not  even  the 
anger  of  Rob  McClure." 


216  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

The  sight  of  the  girl  with  her  earnest  eyes  and 
tremulous  lips  touched  the  buried  ruth  of  the  man. 
At  her  frank  arraignment  he  felt  the  stirrings  of  a 
compunction  that  was  new.  Her  piteous  helpless- 
ness held  off  from  him  by  his  own  chill  unrelenting 
pierced  him  to  a  depth  she  little  dreamed.  The 
memory  of  her  suppliant  figure  haunted  him 
through  the  after  years. 

But  he  resisted.  A  sudden  bracing  of  the  un- 
yielding will  stiffened  his  wavering  resolution.  As 
is  usual  when  a  man  stifles  the  inner  voice,  Rob 
McClure  swung  instantly  to  the  opposite  extreme. 
"  Here,"  he  mused,  "  is  this  daughter  of  mine, 
browbeating  me  rather  than  giving  me  dutiful 
obedience."  He  was  about  to  lash  her  with  scan- 
dalous insinuation  when  the  ulterior  object  re- 
curred to  him.  He  forthwith  tempered  his  rage 
with  a  wise  craftiness. 

"  You  have  given  a  strange  reason,"  said  he 
judicially.  "  I  will  not  give  my  consent  to  your 
friendship  with  such  a  hound.  Why  not  consider 
a  red-blooded  man  like  Chesley  Sykes?  He  is  in- 
telligent, educated,  wealthy  and  delightfully  con- 
genial. In  addition,  he  is  your  father's  close 
friend.  Never  before  have  I  used  my  authority. 
But  now  I  forbid  you  to  have  anything  to  do  with 
Pullar.  Turn  your  attention  to  something  that 
offers  you  a  future." 

"  You  mean  that  I  must  break  my  engagement 
with  Ned?" 


A  FAWN  AT  BAY  217 

"  I  do,"  was  the  adamant  response. 

At  the  brutal  tone  a  swift  change  came  over  the 
girl.  While  an  infinite  suffering  looked  out  of  her 
eyes  she  stood  erect  and  proud. 

"  Do  you  also  command  that  I  shall  accept 
Chesley  Sykes  in  Ned's  place  ?  " 

Her  voice  had  the  ring  that  had  shaken  the  con- 
fidence of  Sykes  but  a  short  time  before.  He  felt 
the  danger  in  it  and  tempered  his  reply. 

"  No,  Mary !     I  don't  command.     I  urge  you." 

"  But  you  have  as  much  right  to  command  me 
to  marry  Chesley  Sykes  as  you  have  to  forbid  my 
friendship  with  Ned  Pullar.  Why  not,  then?  " 

McClure  paused  a  moment,  calculating  her. in- 
tention. 

"  I  have  the  right  to  do  either,"  was  the  trium- 
phant reply.  There  was  a  threat  in  his  voice. 

The  girl  looked  at  him  a  moment,  her  face 
aquiver  with  pain.  The  anguish  of  her  emotion 
blanched  cheeks  and  lips.  She  addressed  him  in  a 
voice  strange  for  its  quality  of  renunciation. 

"  Father,"  said  she,  "  your  words  are  terrible 
to  me.  They  mean  that  you  would  deprive  me  of 
your  affection — of  my  home.  You  have  not  the 
right  to  command  me  to  do  a  wrong.  That  is  not 
the  prerogative  of  even  a  parent.  As  for  Chesley 
Sykes,  I  abhor  him  as  unscrupulous  and  cruel. 
The  more  I  know  of  him  the  less  I  can  discover  to 
admire.  I  will  never  marry  him.  On  the  other 
hand,  some  day  I  shall  marry  Ned.  You  misun- 


218  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

derstand  him.  He  is  not  your  enemy.  He  would 
be  a  real  friend.  I  shall  be  forced  to  disobey  you, 
Father." 

Reluctantly  the  girl  turned  away  and  walked  to 
the  door. 

McClure  was  the  victim  of  an  overwhelming 
rage.  Never  had  he  been  so  stoutly  withstood. 
It  galled  him  to  know  that  his  daughter  was  right. 
In  logic  of  brain  and  ethics  she  had  worsted  him. 
He  was  eager  for  savage  retort,  but  the  offer  of 
Sykes  dangled  before  him  like  golden  fruit.  The 
venom  of  his  rage  would  destroy  it.  So  he  was 
cunning  and  remained  silent. 

"  Just  a  moment,  Mary,"  said  he  in  a  concilia- 
tory voice. 

She  turned  eagerly  toward  him. 

"  I  would  not  force  you  to  do  anything  you  do 
not  wish  to  do,"  said  he.  "  But  do  not  be  rash. 
Think  it  all  over  carefully.  Your  home  is  here. 
It  will  always  be  so.  Perhaps  after  a  time  you 
will  be  able  to  meet  my  wishes." 

Bitterly  disappointed,  the  girl  turned  away. 
She  was  also  surprised.  Her  father,  though  be- 
yond doubt  in  a  violent  rage,  had  acquiesced  to  her 
will.  Amid  all  the  turmoil  of  her  distress  she  re- 
called the  nonchalance  of  Chesley  Sykes  as  she 
refused  his  proposal.  As  with  him,  her  father 
seemed  not  so  greatly  disappointed.  As  she  pon- 
dered the  enigma  a  thought  flitted  into  her  mind 
that  caused  a  cold  chill  to  clutch  at  her  heart. 

Without  a  reply  she  passed  through  the  door. 


XXI 
THE  COUNTERPLOT 

FOLLOWING  their  interview  with  Mary, 
Rob  McClure  and  Sykes  concluded  it  ex- 
pedient to  make  a  flying  visit  to  the  city. 
Mary  found  her  father  in  remarkably  good  hu- 
mour on  his  return.     So  affable  was  his  mood  that 
she  was  beginning  to  hope  for  a  reprieve  of  the 
fates  to  avert  the  calamity  she  feared.     But  her 
hope  was  short  lived.     Riding  into  the  stable  after 
a  long  evening  canter  through  the  Valley  she  was 
greeted  pleasantly  by  her  father. 

"Is  Bobs  going  good  to-day?"  was  his  inter- 
ested question. 

"  Bobs  never  misses,"  was  the  reply.  "  He 
danced  along  in  wonderful  form,  but  I  could  not 
enter  into  his  gaiety.  I  bounced  around  upon  his 
back  a  most  unresponsive  dreamer." 

He  lifted  his  eyebrows. 

"  Surely  you  are  not  yet  worrying  over  our  con- 
rersation  ?  " 

The  kindliness  of  his  tone  drew  the  simple  ad- 
mission: 

"  Yes,  Daddy." 

219 


220  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

"  Have  you  decided  to  fall  in  with  your  good 
prospects  ?  " 

She  studied  his  eyes  with  a  keenness  that 
alarmed  him.  He  read  her  answer  in  the  wearied 
face  and,  speaking  quickly,  forestalled  her  reply. 

"  I  will  say  no  more  about  Ned  Pullar,"  said  he. 
"  I  am  willing  to  leave  it  all  with  you.  I  am  con- 
fident you  will  see  after  a  while  that  it  is  best  to 
forget  him.  Lest  you  should  act  rashly  I  want 
you  to  know  that  not  only  your  own  happiness  but 
my  future  career  rests  wholly  with  you.  I  am  now 
a  partner  in  the  new  firm  of  brokers,  Sykes,  Mc- 
Clure  and  Sykes.  Nothing  but  a  foolish  spurning 
of  your  wonderful  opportunity  with  Chesley  Sykes 
can  hold  back  the  most  astonishing  possibilities  for 
us  all." 

The  girl's  head  drooped.  She  realized  that 
snares  were  being  skilfully  and  cruelly  laid.  To 
her  father  she  had  become  a  mere  chattel. 

"  Daddy/'  she  said  gently,  "  it  grieves  me  to  dis- 
obey you,  to  disappoint  you.  But  once  for  all  you 
must  know  that  no  inducement,  however  tempting 
to  me  or  however  disappointing  to  you  in  my  re- 
fusal of  it,  will  persuade  me  to  do  the  thing  you 
urge." 

Again  to  her  surprise,  he  showed  no  great  cha- 
grin. Instead  he  betrayed  an  over  anxiety  in  his 
desire  to  conciliate  her. 

Through  the  long,  sleepless  hours  of  the  night 
she  brooded,  striving  to  think  a  way  out.  The 


THE  COUNTERPLOT  221 

sense  of  personal  peril  grew  upon  her.  She  re- 
membered the  light  in  her  father's  eyes  as  he  told 
her  of  his  good  fortune.  She  shuddered  as  she 
recalled  it.  In  the  morning,  as  she  rode  over  the 
Valley,  she  decided  to  see  Ned  at  the  earliest  mo- 
ment. 

Rob  McClure  was  greatly  alarmed  at  the  invul- 
nerable front  the  girl  presented.  Arrived  in  his 
office,  he  drew  a  bundle  of  documents  from  a 
drawer  and  examined  them.  The  title  fascinated 
him.  He  rocked  back  in  his  chair  to  con  its  lure 
when  his  eyes  caught  the  vision  of  the  two  faces 
above.  Suddenly  he  realized  that  upon  the  inscru- 
table and  inviolable  will  behind  the  sweet  face  of 
Mary  rested  his  fortune.  With  Mary  and  not 
with  himself  rested  the  decision  that  should  ratify 
or  destroy  his  arrangement  with  Sykes.  It  all  de- 
pended upon  the  girl  above  with  the  innocent  face. 
Could  he  leave  it  to  her?  A  keen  study  of  the 
pure  eye  and  firm  brow  shook  his  confidence  in  a 
desirable  outcome.  Rising,  he  leaned  toward  the 
picture  with  an  abandon  that  betrayed  his  intensity 
of  desire. 

"  Mary !  "  he  whispered.  "  You  will  throw  me 
down.  I  feel  it.  Sykes  is  right.  There  is  no 
other  way.  The  little  chit  is  blind.  I  shall  be 
forced  to  do  it.  I  will  see  Sykes.  She  will  sur- 
render when  there  is  nothing  else  to  do." 

This  colloquy  with  the  silent  photograph  had 
momentous  results  for  the  fair  original. 


222  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

At  noon  there  was  the  clatter  of  hoofs  outside 
the  Pullar  homestead  and  the  winding  of  a  silvery 
halloo.  Ned  went  out. 

"  To  saddle !  "  cried  Mary  as  Ned  appeared. 
"  Get  Darkey  and  come !  We'll  ride  at  high 
noon!  We'll  brew  a  tale  on  the  King's  High- 
way." 

Aware  that  some  serious  matter  prompted 
Mary's  visit  Ned  was  up  on  Darkey  in  a  trice  and 
they  rode  out  on  an  endless  trail  of  the  undulating 
plain.  When  deep  out  in  the  lonely  stretch  Mary 
drew  Bobs  to  a  walk. 

"  Ned,"  she  said,  "  are  you  prepared  for  a  most 
unusual  proposition  ?  " 

"  Anything  you  propose  will  meet  with  my  en- 
tire support." 

"  Then  hear  me.  The  danger  you  feared  so  long 
ago  is  imminent.  Father  has  learned  of  our  engage- 
ment from  the  lips  of  Chesley  Sykes.  I  have  talked 
with  Father.  You  can  easily  surmise  what  that  in- 
terview involved.  But  a  few  minutes  before  Sykes 
had  submitted  a  personal  offer  to  the  present  rider 
of  Bobs.  The  offer  was  declined  respectfully  if 
summarily.  Father  has  backed  his  friend  and  for- 
bids me  you,  Ned.  I  am  to  instantly  and  cas- 
ually forget  you.  In  the  selfsame  instant  I  am  to 
foster  the  tenderest  regard  for  Sykes.  This  very 
interview  is  a  disobedience." 

She  paused,  looking  up  at  Ned,  her  face  a  com- 
pound of  anxiety  and  mischief.  Ned  sent  Darkey 


THE  COUNTERPLOT  223 

to  Bobs'  flank  and  threw  his  arm  about  the  lithe 
little  rider. 

"  Mary,"  said  he,  "  you  are  a  brave  girl.  Will 
you  marry  me  to-day  ?  This  very  day  ?  " 

"  Hush,  Ned ! "  was  her  cry  as  she  placed  her 
hand  upon  his  lips.  "  You  are  stealing  my  fire. 
That  is  my  proposition.  Only  I  put  it  this  way. 
Will  you  marry  me  not  to-day  or  to-morrow  but 
the  day  after?" 

"  I'll  marry  you  to-day  and  to-morrow  and  the 
day  after,"  was  the  happy  response.  "  But  why 
put  it  off?" 

"  Now  I  have  broken  the  ice,  Ned,  it  will  be 
easier.  I  am  a  frightened  little  prairie  chicken 
running  for  cover.  I  was  going  to  ask  you  to  do 
this  trifling  thing  for  me  the  day  after  to-morrow 
when  you  anticipated  by  two  days.  It  is  very  good 
of  my  big  farmer  to  ask  no  questions  and  to  be 
willing  even  to  advance  dates,  but  I  have  a  little 
to  say  in  justification  of  this  bold  visit. 

"  Since  my  interview  with  Father  the  firm  of 
Sykes  and  Sykes  has  become  the  firm  of  Sykes, 
McClure  and  Sykes.  Last  night  Father  informed 
me  that  if  I  throw  down  Chesley  Sykes  I  therewith 
crash  to  the  ground  his  whole  brilliant  future — that 
is  Father's." 

"  You  are  in  a  hard  place,  Mary,"  said  Ned  so- 
licitously. "  It  is  troubling  you  terribly  despite 
your  brave  front.  You  are  grieving,  I  know." 

"  A    little    worried,    Ned,"    was    the    simple 


224  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

acknowledgment.  "  It  has  been  difficult  and  it  will 
be.  It  is  not  Father's  anger  that  has  driven  me  to 
you.  It  is  abject  fear.  I  am  afraid  of  Sykes — 
and  Father.  I  turn  down  Sykes.  It  does  not  anger 
him.  He  remains  congenial.  I  withstand  Father 
and  promise  to  wreck  his  whole  career.  He  is 
scarcely  disturbed.  Why  are  they  not  provoked? 
Because  they  are  not.  They  are  confident  of  real- 
izing the  thing  they  want.  Ned,  I  have  become 
such  a  frightened  little  goose  that  I  carry  this." 

She  drew  an  automatic  gun  from  some  myste- 
rious repository  in  the  breast  of  her  riding  habit. 
At  sight  of  the  weapon  Ned's  eyes  flashed  their 
dangerous  light. 

"  You  are  wise  to  provide  defense,"  said  he  so- 
berly, "  since  your  enemy  is  Sykes.  Your  intuition 
has  not  led  you  astray.  For  all  his  suavity  and 
culture  Sykes  is  a  savage.  He  is  the  monster  our 
civilization  rears  in  the  lap  of  luxury.  He  has  been 
trained  to  expect  full  satiation  of  his  desires. 
He  has  a  maxim  that  he  gets  what  he  goes  after. 
He  knows  utterly  nothing  of  self-mastery.  He  has 
never  denied  himself.  He  never  will.  Nor  will 
he  yield  to  fate.  You  are  in  great  danger  and  have 
been  for  months.  Some  conspiracy  is  on  foot.  Its 
execution  may  be  a  matter  of  but  a  few  hours. 
There  is  but  one  thing  to  do,  Mary.  You  must 
marry  me  to-day." 

The  girl  looked  into  his  eyes. 

"  I  am  glad  you  understand,"  said  she.    "  I  will 


THE  COUNTEEPLOT  225 

marry  you,  Ned,  but  at  the  time  I  have  proposed. 
They  shall  lead  me  into  nothing  undesirable  before 
then.  To-day,  to-night  I  want  to  myself  to  think  it 
all  out.  To-morrow  I  shall  teach  and  to-morrow 
night  I  shall  tell  all  to  Mother  and  consult  with 
her.  She  will  agree  to  our  marriage  upon  '  the  day 
after.' " 

Ned  demurred  but  to  no  purpose. 

"  Since  you  insist  on  your  date,"  said  Ned  with 
a  smile,  "  will  you  grant  me  the  privilege  of  plan- 
ning the  elopement  ?  " 

"  Your  plans  first.    This  is  my  escapade." 

"  Very  well.  The  *  day  after '  you  ride  out  to 
The  Craggs  as  usual.  I  shall  meet  you  at  the  Peak 
of  the  Buffalo  Trails  and  together  we  shall  ride  to 
The  Fort.  It  is  only  a  canter  of  twenty  miles. 
There  we  shall  be  wed  in  the  parsonage  of  Oliver 
Darwin.  He  is  our  good  friend.  Father  will  go 
over  to  the  school  and  inform  the  children  that 
Miss  McClure  is  '  indisposed.'  " 

"  My  saddle  for  a  bridal  coach !  Ned !  That  is 
an  inspiration.  We'll  ride  the  winding  trail  into 
the  mystic  West." 

She  held  her  lips  to  him  and  their  kiss  was  the 
pure  caress  of  a  noble  passion. 

That  night  Ned  rode  to  The  Fort  and  made  full 
arrangements,  reaching  home  by  the  gray  light  of 
dawn. 


XXII 

WOLVES 

THE  pastime  of  draw  poker  was  engaging 
the  energies  of  Sykes,  McClure,  Foyle, 
Snoopy  Bill  and  their  gang  of  familiars. 
The  hour  ran  long  past  the  closing  time  of  eleven 
p.  M. 

Though  stakes  had  flown  high  the  game  had 
failed  to  catch  the  interest  of  Rob  McClure.  He 
played  his  hand  with  a  detachment  that  threw  him 
open  to  heavy  losses.  So  far  he  had  escaped.  His 
mind  was  the  battle  ground  of  a  struggle  he  had 
not  calculated  on.  Sykes  watched  him  covertly  all 
evening,  striving  to  pierce  the  mask  of  his  unsmil- 
ing face.  It  delighted  him  to  trace  the  ruthless 
lines  about  the  mouth.  On  the  other  hand  it  per- 
turbed him  not  a  little  to  see  distinct  evidences  of 
indecision.  With  the  deliberate  purpose  of  foster- 
ing the  reckless  mood  Sykes  kept  up  a  perpetual 
toasting.  He  toasted  the  pot,  the  queens  and  the 
aces  all  in  turn,  drinking  lightly  himself  while  Mc- 
Clure took  copious  draughts.  With  all  his  apathy 
McClure  won  regularly  while  Sykes  lost  as  steadily. 
The  double-plying  of  the  farmer  with  the  fre- 

226 


WOLVES  227 

quently  recurring  toast  and  an  unswerving  success 
in  the  game  was  fast  realizing  Sykes'  purpose.  He 
was  growing  reckless  in  his  sullen  vindictiveness 
while  the  inner  struggle  was  evident  in  strange  mo- 
ments of  aberration.  A  gloominess  was  gathering 
in  his  befuddled  brain.  This  greatly  puzzled  Sykes 
and  alarmed  him  as  well.  He  watched  like  a  spider 
in  his  lair. 

Suddenly  he  leaned  forward.  A  change  had 
come  over  the  farmer.  McClure  sat  in  his  place, 
his  head  resting  heavily  upon  his  left  hand.  His 
cards  lay  upon  the  table  before  him  face  up.  The 
game  was  forgotten.  His  eyes  were  reading  the 
contents  of  a  half -emptied  glass  with  a  stare  repel- 
lent in  its  fierce  amazement.  Holding  the  glass 
tightly  in  his  right  hand  he  trained  bulging  eyes  on 
some  sight  within. 

At  that  moment  Rob  McClure  was  a  physical 
wreck  rolling  helplessly  on  a  rough  sea.  At  best 
the  conscience  of  the  man  was  atrophied.  Now  it 
was  incapable  as  well.  The  countenance,  spacious, 
with  a  native  bigness,  was  marred  by  the  double 
bestiality  of  bibber  and  rogue.  The  rudderless 
mind  was  mighty  with  unleashed  desire.  Amid  the 
wreck  of  faculties  sat  the  will,  an  ominous  thing 
living,  uncontrolled,  with  strength  unimpaired, 
ready  to  strike  adder-like  in  any  direction. 

Oblivious  of  the  commotion  of  the  game  he  be- 
held the  figment  of  his  drugged  brain  rising  to  view 
in  the  glass  of  drink.  His  face  grew  black  with 


228  'THE  Y ALLEY  OF  GOLD 

an  anger  horrible  to  behold.  Amid  the  gleam  of 
the  liquor  two  faces  took  nebulous  shape,  growing 
in  definition  the  longer  he  watched.  At  length  they 
rose  into  view  through  the  bubbles  and  froth.  They 
vanished  magically  only  to  reappear  with  a  tripled 
vividness  of  shape.  They  were  living  faces,  of 
beautiful  women  sorrowful  with  a  gentle  reproach 
that  stirred  some  tender,  sleeping  thing  within  him, 
while  at  the  same  instant  it  bated  the  savage  beast 
glaring  out  of  his  eyes.  As  he  looked,  one  instant 
fearful,  the  next  enraged,  the  tender  thing  was 
suddenly  crushed  and  the  beast  sprang  from  his 
lair.  A  wild  venge fulness  gleamed  in  his  eyes  as 
he  sprang  to  his  feet  with  a  weird  cry.  Swinging 
his  arm  aloft  he  hurled  the  glass  crashing  upon  the 
table  before  him. 

"  Ha !  "  he  cried  laughing  horribly.  "  That  will 
shut  your  blankety  eyes." 

Cunningly  he  searched  the  ring  of  startled  faces. 
As  he  looked  something  clicked  in  the  brain  and 
the  hallucination  passed.  His  face  resumed  its 
normal  expression,  though  an  inkling  of  what  he 
had  just  done  remained  dimly  with  him. 

The  others  sprang  to  their  feet  in  alarm,  striking 
sudden  attitudes  of  defense.  An  instant's  contem- 
plation disclosed  to  all  his  drunken  state.  His  eyes 
were  fixed  curiously  upon  the  shivered  glass.  A 
chorus  of  raillery  broke  out.  But  McClure  did  not 
smile.  His  face  was  dark. 

"What  the ?"  jollied  Snoopy  Bill. 


WOLVES  229 

Stepping  to  the  door  he  stooped  down  and 
yelled  through  the  keyhole: 

"  Hi  you,  Louie !  No  more  strong  stuff  for  Mc- 
Clure.  He's  seeing  'em.  Bring  a  tray  of  lemon- 
ade." 

McClure  was  in  an  unfortunate  mood  for  the 
jibe.  Stung  by  the  roar  of  applause  he  leaped  at 
Snoopy  Bill  in  swift  reprisal.  Gripping  him  sav- 
agely by  the  throat  he  applied  a  strangle  clutch. 
Snoopy's  head  bobbed  back  and  he  sank  to  the  floor 
with  blackening  face.  With  shouts  of  alarm  the 
others  sprang  toward  the  two  men.  Tearing  away 
McClure's  deadly  grasp  they  pinned  him  to  the 
floor.  The  struggle  aided  him  to  recover  his  men- 
tal poise.  Looking  up  at  them  with  a  sane  glance 
he  said  quietly: 

"  I'm  through.    Let  me  up." 

Released,  he  regained  his  feet  and  resumed  his 
chair. 

Snoopy  Bill's  face  was  livid  as  he  sank  panting 
into  his  place.  Into  his  eyes  crept  a  vengeful  light. 
He  glanced  sullenly  about.  He,  too,  had  imbibed 
over  freely.  As  he  recovered  the  sense  of  outrage 
deepened  and  he  proceeded  to  wreak  immediate  re- 
venge. With  the  slyness  of  the  inebriate  he 
reached  out  and  seized  his  glass.  Fixing  direful 
eyes  on  McClure  he  drew  back  his  hand.  But  the 
murderous  throw  was  interrupted.  His  wrist  was 
suddenly  caught  in  the  vise-like  grip  of  Sykes* 
long  fingers. 


230  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

"  Better  not,  Bill,"  he  admonished  in  a  low 
voice.  "  Rob  is  dead  drunk.  Don't  even  know  he 
fouled  you.  If  you  let  him  have  that  you'll  be  up 
against  murder." 

"  He's  a  blankety  coward,"  was  the  angry  re- 
tort. "  I'll  get  him  yet.  Watch  me  bust  up  this 
gang.  By  the  blankety  blank  I'll  tip  Pullar  him- 
self." 

Above  the  growls  this  threat  produced  rose 
the  voice  of  Sykes  roaring  blasphemously  at 
Swale  who  stood  in  the  open  door  with  mouth 
agape. 

"  You  bottle  washing  smuggler ! "  he  cried. 
"  Fill  up  a  tray  of  your  dummest  swill  and  hand 
it  out  on  the  double  quick.  No  more  poison  or 
we'll  blow  you  up." 

Satisfied  that  the  brawl  was  over  Swale  disap- 
peared with  the  desired  alacrity. 

McClure's  assault  had  tapped  a  smoldering 
mine.  Though  the  game  was  resumed  neither  Mc- 
Clure  nor  Snoopy  Bill  evinced  any  interest,  while 
the  latter  continued  to  breathe  vengeance.  Beside 
him  sat  Ford  who  too  was  showing  little  interest 
in  the  cards. 

"  Come,  Ford ! "  challenged  Snoopy  Bill  in  a 
stage  whisper.  "  I'll  stump  you  to  split  on  the 
hounds.  I'm  quitting." 

"  Cut  the  ragging ! "  called  Sykes  appeasingly. 
"  This  bad  stuff  all  comes  from  drinking  Swale's 
rotten  whiskey.  Here  comes  the  best  ever." 


WOLVES  231 

Swale  appeared  with  a  loaded  tray.  The  glasses 
were  passed  around. 

"  Keep  it!  "  said  Snoopy  Bill.  "  I  tell  you  I'm 
quitting." 

"  Me  too,"  said  Nick  Ford,  pushing  his  glass 
away.  "  I  reckon  I'm  with  Bill,"  said  he  rising. 
"  This  gang's  never  been  right.  But  it  hit  the  rocks 
good  and  hard  about  the  time  Hank  Foyle  blew  in, 
I  know  I  ain't  a  Sunday-school  teacher  but  I've 
felt  like  a  skunk  since  that  steal  of  Pullar's  farm. 
I've  a  sneaking  idea  there's  some  scurvy  game  on 
right  now.  Rolling  an  old  man  is  bad  enough  but 
I  draw  the  line  at  fouling  a  woman,  I'm 
through." 

Nick's  words  had  a  startling  effect.  The 
drinkers  paused  in  their  act  of  tossing  the  glass. 
There  was  a  passage  of  swift  glances  between 
Sykes  and  McClure.  The  hush  of  a  deep  calm  fell 
on  the  room,  broken  by  a  wild  laugh  from  Snoopy 
Bill. 

"  Keep  it  up,  old  top ! "  he  shouted,  slapping 
Ford  on  the  back.  "  Cough  it  out.  Spit  up 
the  facts.  We'll  enjoy  'em." 

Ford  gave  a  knowing  smirk. 

"  No,  Bill,"  was  his  insinuating  reply.  "  I  ain't 
telling  all  I  know.  I'll  let  it  off  at  the  regular 
time." 

For  McClure  and  Sykes  his  words  had  a  dis- 
quieting significance.  How  much  did  Ford  know? 
Beyond  all  doubt  he  had  an  inkling  of  the  facts. 


232  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

"  None  of  this  little  party  know  what  Nick  is 
raving  about,"  said  Sykes.  "  Nick's  had  a  peculiar 
dream.  Louie's  poison  got  him  a  little  differently 
from  Rob.  Let  us  forget  the  gab  and  every  man 
hit  the  bottom  of  his  glass.  There's  a  tankful  left. 
Watch  us  touch  the  high  spots  in  this  little  game." 

He  pointed  to  the  cards. 

There  was  a  roar  of  applause. 

"  No  you  don't,"  said  Nick  determinedly.  "  It's 
bye,  bye,  boys,  for  me.  I'm  taking  a  walk  to  my- 
self." 

"  Take  me  along,"  cried  Snoopy  Bill,  rising  and 
joining  him. 

The  gang  watched  the  two  delinquents  lock  arms 
and  pass  out  into  the  barroom.  No  man  made  a 
move  to  obstruct  them.  Any  such  attempt  would 
have  been  organized  by  either  McClure  or  Sykes 
and  for  some  reason  they  were  silent. 

With  the  game  broken  up  the  party  went  out 

"  Come  over  to  the  office,"  whispered  Sykes  to 
McClure  and  Foyle.  "  Ford's  next  our  game. 
We'll  have  to  finish  with  a  spurt  if  we  are  to  pull 
off  a  win." 

The  interview  lasted  a  long  time.  They  had 
barely  entered  upon  it  when  a  shadow  crept  up  and 
hung  low  near  the  window.  With  surprising  te- 
merity the  stealthy  visitant  lighted  a  cigarette.  In 
the  light  of  the  match  appeared  the  dark  visage 
of  Nick  Ford.  He  had  sprung  a  bluff  on  the  plot- 
ters, basing  his  charge  on  a  phrase  or  two  he  had 


WOLVES  233 

overheard.  His  guess  had  been  shrewd.  Satisfied 
that  some  conspiracy  was  afoot  he  decided  to 
shadow  the  three  men  with  the  result  that  he  now 
sat  at  the  window  listening  with  alert  ears  to  the 
conversation  going  on  within.  He  caught  signifi- 
cant parts  of  their  talk,  enough  to  discover  that 
some  scheme  was  being  concocted  against  the  little 
school-teacher.  He  listened  breathlessly  in  effort 
to  learn  complete  details,  but  without  success. 

"  Hang  my  ears ! "  was  his  impatient  whisper. 
"Why  can't  I  get  it  all?" 

He  had  learned  enough,  however,  to  present  him 
with  a  serious  challenge. 

"  They've  got  me !  "  he  whispered  half  fearfully. 
"  Sykes  has  piles  of  money.  If  I  chuck  him  he'll 
break  me  sure." 

Hearing  signs  of  a  break-up  of  the  party  he  stole 
away  to  his  home  debating  the  momentous  demand 
the  facts  he  had  learned  now  suddenly  made  upon 
his  conscience.  It  was  easier  to  threaten  to  split 
on  the  gang  than  to  come  through  with  the  threat, 
for  Nick  Ford  was  no  squealer.  It  was  dawn  be- 
fore he  arrived  at  a  conclusion.  Finally  he  decided. 

"  Ah,  Brubbie !  "  he  breathed  softly.  "  For  her 
sake  I'll  do  it.  She  saved  you  from  the  wolves. 
Yes,  I'll  do  it.  I'll  let  Ned  Pullar  know  all." 


XXIII 
THE  ADVENTURE  AT  THE  BRIDGE 

THE  morning  following  her  interview  with 
Ned,  Mary  elected  to  follow  the  round- 
about route  of  the  Buffalo  paths.  She 
had  a  desire  to  flee  the  highway  and  sequester  her- 
self in  the  friendly  silences.  The  flashing  June 
morning  was  zestful  with  the  humours  of  capri- 
cious little  winds  that  pressed  refreshingly  on 
cheeks  and  lips  and  curled  the  brown  hair  about 
her  temples.  She  was  gratefully  aware  of  all  this 
caressing  though  looking  out  on  the  Valley  with 
solemn  eyes. 

She  was  deep  in  the  cogitations  that  pressed  her 
continually  when  she  realized  that  Bobs  had  halted 
of  his  own  accord  on  the  bald  peak. 

Below  her  the  lake  lay  a  glistening  quietude  in 
the  verdant  lap  of  the  Valley.  Vagrant  breaths  of 
tiny  squalls  dimpled  the  water  here  and  there  shad- 
ing it  with  fleeting  frowns.  Beneath  her  the  Storm 
Rock  hung  on  the  glassy  sheet  suspended  between 
two  skies.  Cottonwoods  and  ragged  oak  formed 
an  inviting  bower.  The  island  so  lonely  and  silent 
had  an  unusual  attraction  for  her. 

234 


THE  ADVENTURE  AT  THE  BRIDGE    235 

"  You  dear  little  covert,"  she  whispered.  "  How 
I  should  like  to  hide  in  you  to-day !  " 

With  a  sigh  she  turned  Bobs  down  the  hill  and 
into  Willow  Glade  where  she  must  perforce  halt 
again  and  muse  in  the  precious  nook  with  its  haunt- 
ing memories. 

Throughout  the  day  the  children  of  The  Craggs 
wondered  at  the  frequent  periods  of  preoccupation 
that  would  creep  over  their  usually  so  attentive 
teacher.  They  were  deeply  touched  by  the  singular 
gentleness  with  which  she  resumed  the  task.  For 
all  their  mute  sympathy  the  hours  lagged  strangely. 

Nick  Ford  wasted  no  time  in  addressing  himself 
to  the  task  he  had  resolved  upon.  It  is  hard  to 
travel  back  over  the  devious  way  one  has  come 
when  that  way  has  been  too  devious.  To  carry 
out  his  resolution  would  involve  a  divulging  of 
most  unpleasant  facts.  He  knew  of  the  intimate 
relations  of  Mary  and  Ned  and  trusted  to  Ned  find- 
ing some  way  of  foiling  the  designs  of  the  plotters 
once  he  was  acquainted  with  the  fact  that  there  was 
a  plot.  Hitching  his  horse  he  set  out  for  the  home- 
stead with  laudable  dispatch. 

He  was  bowling  along,  passing  through  a  bluff 
not  far  from  his  destination  when  a  shadow  darted 
out  of  the  trees  ahead  and  his  horse  stopped 
abruptly.  His  attention  was  directed  to  the  uiv- 
usual  movements  at  his  horse's  head  when  he  felt 
a  strong  hand  close  tightly  on  his  arm.  Turning 


236  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

with  an  exclamation  of  surprise  he  looked  into  the 
grinning  countenance  of  Reddy  Sykes. 

"  Good-day,  Nick ! "  was  the  quiet  greeting. 
"  Making  a  little  morning  run,  eh  ?  " 

"  Hello,  Sykes!  "  he  replied  innocently.  "  What 
are  you  doing  here  ?  " 

Sykes  grinned  afresh. 

"Let  it  out,  Nick,"  was  the  reply.  "You're 
heading  for  Pullar's.  We've  been  waiting  for  you. 
I  saw  the  yellow  streak  in  you  last  night.  We  de- 
cided to  head  you  off.  You  spoke  about  skunks  in 
your  little  spiel.  You're  right  and  we've  trapped 
the  same  polecat  this  morning." 

At  the  words  he  dragged  the  other  from  the  ve- 
hicle. Realizing  his  helplessness  in  the  powerful 
hands  of  Sykes  Nick  decided  to  submit  quietly  to 
the  will  of  his  captor.  Taking  him  into  the  trees 
Sykes  sought  to  force  a  confession.  But  he  found 
Nick  had  no  particular  use  for  free  speech  just  then. 

"  Hide  his  horse  and  rig  in  the  bluff,"  directed 
Sykes,  addressing  Foyle.  "  We'll  gag  this  scab  and 
hitch  him  to  a  tree  for  the  present.  If  I  make  the 
get-away  you  can  send  somebody  in  to  let  him  go." 

In  the  depths  of  the  bluff  they  gagged  him  and 
tying  his  hands  behind  his  back  strapped  him  to  a 
big  tree  with  his  leather  lines.  Satisfied  of  the  se- 
curity of  their  prisoner  they  slipped  quietly  out  of 
sight. 

During  the  noon  hour  Ned  joined  Mary  in  an- 


THE  ADVENTUEE  AT  THE  BEIDGE    237 

other  ride  in  which  arrangements  were  perfected 
for  their  sudden  nuptials.  Resting  in  his  arms  at 
parting  she  looked  up  into  his  eyes. 

"  I  am  looking  forward  to  our  ride  to-morrow, 
Ned,"  said  she.  "  But  how  I  should  have  delighted 
to  set  out  on  the  great  adventure  from  the  doorstep 
of  Mother  and  Dad !  " 

"  Keep  them  back,  Mary!  "  enjoined  Ned  cheer- 
ingly  as  he  saw  the  tears  shine  in  her  eyes.  Wrap- 
ping his  sheltering  arms  about  her  he  whispered  the 
optimism  of  his  great  heart  into  her  fluttering 
spirit. 

"  In  our  heart  of  hearts,  Mary,"  said  he,  "  we 
both  deplore  this  premature  wedding.  But  it  is  the 
only  sane  thing  for  us  to  do.  Your  mother  will 
agree  with  us  when  you  tell  her  to-night.  She  will 
bless  us.  It  is  the  one  way  of  assuring  your  pro- 
tection. I  believe  another  desirable  and  most  won- 
derful result  will  follow.  It  will  break  the  spell 
Sykes  has  cast  over  your  father.  A  complete  sev- 
erance with  Sykes  and  the  crash  of  his  house  of 
cards  will  restore  your  father  to  you  clothed  and 
in  his  right  mind." 

At  the  words  Ned  felt  the  pressure  of  dear  lips 
on  his. 

"  Thank  you,  Ned ! "  were  her  happy  words. 
"  That  is  beautiful  of  you.  And  you  do  not  hate 
Father  after  all  his  injustice?  " 

"  No,  Mary,  I  pity  him.  It  is  after  all  his 
greater  misfortune." 


238  THE  VALLEY  OP  GOLD 

"  Good-bye,"  said  she  at  last.  "  It  is  very  hope- 
ful after  all.  Meet  me  at  the  Buffalo  Peak  in  the 
morning  and  we'll  ride  away  into  the  days  of  our 
happy  dreams." 

Ned  watched  from  the  edge  of  the  trees  until 
the  small  white  figure  disappeared  within  the 
schoolhouse.  He  was  troubled  as  she  vanished 
from  sight.  It  occurred  to  him  that  she  was  very 
frail  and  lonely.  He  had  a  powerful  impression 
that  he  should  ride  through  the  Valley  with  her  in 
the  evening  as  she  returned  to  her  home.  He  had 
proposed  accompanying  her  to  the  Peak  at  least, 
but  she  had  demurred.  It  was  better  that  they 
should  not  be  seen  together.  There  were  eyes  that 
would  draw  pertinent  conclusions  that  might 
wreck  everything.  Reluctantly  he  turned  Darkey 
into  the  trail  leading  to  the  homestead. 

The  last  few  minutes  with  Ned  greatly  lightened 
Mary's  spirits.  She  felt  that  a  wise  providence 
was  guiding  them.  On  the  heels  of  her  great  de- 
pression there  followed  the  ecstasy  of  a  greater 
hope.  Even  storm-clouds  show  a  silver  edge  at 
times. 

Shortly  after  four  Bobs  and  his  rider  set  out 
for  home.  The  day  had  been  bright,  but  as  the 
afternoon  sped  away  a  belt  of  blue  clouds  appeared 
in  the  north.  From  distant  bluffs  came  the  mur- 
murous roar  of  a  rising  breeze.  As  she  topped  a 
ridge  gusts  of  cold  wind  swept  up  behind  her  and 
rushed  past,  imbuing  Bobs  with  the  storm  panic. 


THE  ADVENTURE  AT  THE  BRIDGE    239 

He  scurried  down  the  trail  at  a  spanking  canter. 
Very  soon  they  rode  over  the  crest  of  the  Cut  and 
down  into  its  sheltering  trees.  She  was  riding 
along  immersed  in  her  momentous  reflections 
when  the  sudden  pricking  forward  of  Bobs'  ears 
recalled  her  to  the  task  of  guiding  him  down  the 
ravine.  The  cause  of  his  interest  she  discovered 
in  a  vehicle  ahead.  It  was  slowly  threading  the 
Cut,  evidently  on  its  way  to  Pellawa.  She  was 
rapidly  overhauling  it.  While  conjecturing  the 
personnel  of  its  passengers  it  wheeled  out  of  sight 
about  a  sharp  curve  of  the  hill.  She  followed,  can- 
tering a  moment  later  into  a  narrowed  pocket  of 
the  dip.  She  slowed  her  horse,  for  before  her  the 
road  ran  over  a  pretty  bridge,  scarcely  wide 
enough  for  comfort  in  passing  a  carriage.  The 
equipage  had  stopped  upon  the  bridge,  crowding 
close  to  one  side,  leaving  thus  plenty  of  room  for 
her  to  pass.  Sending  Bobs  ahead  she  walked  him 
upon  the  bridge.  As  she  drew  abreast  of  the  ve- 
hicle she  was  startled  to  recognize  Chesley  Sykes. 
An  alarm  leaped  into  her  breast  at  meeting  him 
there,  for  the  gulch  was  deep  and  thickly  wooded. 
It  was  a  hidden  bit  of  road. 

Lifting  his  hat  casually,  Sykes  addressed  her  in 
a  friendly  voice. 

"Good-day,  Miss  McClure!  An  unexpected 
meeting! " 

As  he  spoke,  Bobs  came  to  an  abrupt  stop. 
Mary  glanced  ahead.  Foyle  stood  in  their  path, 


240  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

his  hands  grasping  the  bridle  rein.  Instantly  the 
girl  realized  an  ambuscade.  With  a  low,  fright- 
ened cry  she  plunged  the  spurs  into  Bobs'  flanks. 
Blocked  in  front  he  reared,  tossing  his  head.  His 
wild  leap  lifted  Foyle  and  threw  him  over  the  rail- 
ing of  the  bridge.  A  second  leap  and  he  snapped 
the  rein  out  of  Foyle's  hands,  dropping  him  into 
the  water  beneath.  He  had  shaken  one  assailant, 
however,  only  to  be  confronted  by  another. 

"  Do  not  be  alarmed,  Mary,"  called  Sykes,  as 
he  grasped  the  bridle.  "  No  harm  will  come  to 
you."  With  Bobs  plunging  violently,  the  girl  drew 
the  automatic. 

"  Let  go,"  was  her  stern  command,  "  or  I'll 
shoot." 

"  Blaze  away,  Mary ! "  was  the  cool  reply,  as 
he  dodged  for  shelter  behind  Bobs'  head. 

Unhesitatingly  the  girl  pulled  and  the  gun  spat 
its  stream  of  lead.  In  the  confusion  of  the  leap- 
ing horse  and  her  dodging  target  with  the  effort  to 
sit  her  saddle,  the  balls  went  wide.  Not  all,  how- 
ever, for  twice  came  the  soft  wheeze  of  ball  pierc- 
ing flesh.  As  the  balls  went  home,  Sykes  cried 
out,  though  his  vigour  remained  unimpaired. 
Aware  that  the  clip  was  empty  she  dropped  the 
gun  and  addressed  herself  to  sitting  the  saddle  and 
urging  Bobs  in  his  furious  struggles  to  free  him- 
self. 

Snorting  in  terror,  the  horse  leaped  into  the 
ditch,  dragging  Sykes  with  him  into  the  trees. 


THE  ADVENTURE  AT  THE  BRIDGE    241 

Plunging  violently  the  horse  galloped  up  the  hill- 
side through  the  grove.  Mary  kept  her  seat,  Bobs 
dodging  in  wild  plunging  leaps  among  the  trunks, 
until  a  low  limb  swept  across  their  path.  She 
could  not  avoid  it  and  it  caught  her  full  in  the  face, 
sweeping  her  from  the  saddle.  The  powerful  re- 
bound of  the  strong  branch  flung  her  to  the 
ground,  where  she  lay  quiet,  a  bit  of  white  in  the 
shrubs. 

Relieved  of  her  weight  and  still  further  ter- 
rorized, Bobs  tore  free  from  Sykes  and  whirling 
about,  dashed  down  the  Cut.  Running  quickly 
to  where  the  still  figure  lay  in  the  underbrush, 
Sykes  picked  it  up  in  his  arms  and  carried  it  into 
a  thicket  of  great  trees.  At  that  instant  Foyle  ran 
up. 

"  Got  the  girl!  "  he  applauded. 

"Catch  that  horse,"  directed  Sykes.  "If  he 
gets  away  he'll  bring  a  nest  of  hornets  about  our 
ears.  Run  the  carriage  out  of  sight  until  we  are 
ready.  We  made  some  change  in  our  plans  this 
morning.  We  are  crossing  the  lake  to  Magee's 
Cove.  The  horses  are  waiting  there.  It  saves  us 
a  ten-mile  run  about  the  frequented  Pellawa  end. 
The  boat  is  ready  near  Grant's  Landing.  I  am 
making  a  further  change  in  our  plans.  McClure 
thinks  we  are  taking  the  Limited  for  the  West. 
Instead  we  are  making  a  bee-line  for  Uncle 
Sam's  the  instant  we  reach  the  Cove.  The 
plucky  chit  got  me  twice  in  the  right  arm.  Only 


242  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

flea  bites,  but  they  are  messing  me  up  rather  for  a 
crowded  Pullman.  Hold  the  carriage  ready. 
You'll  never  catch  that  broncho." 

Foyle  hastened  away  to  do  Sykes'  bidding. 

As  Sykes  looked  upon  the  face  so  cruelly  torn 
he  was  touched.  He  passed  his  hand  over  his 
brow  irresolute.  Only  a  moment  and  the  com- 
punction vanished.  Shutting  his  jaw  he  muttered 
in  determination: 

"  I've  got  you  at  last,  Mary,  and  you  stay  with 
me.  Nothing  in  God's  world  will  take  you  from 
me — and  live." 


XXIV 
THE  STORM  ROCK 

HOUR  succeeded  hour  with  snail-footed 
pace  as  Nick  Ford  stood  lashed  to  his 
tree.  He  fought  with  his  gag  but  it  was 
jammed  firmly  into  his  mouth  and  held  with  tight 
wrapped  bands.  The  coils  of  the  stout  leather 
reins  swathed  him  securely  to  the  tree.  At  noon 
he  heard  Ned  ride  by  and  repass  on  his  way  home 
again.  The  rider  was  scarcely  thirty  yards  away. 
He  made  a  fresh  fight  to  free  himself,  but  without 
avail.  He  had  ceased  to  struggle  long  before 
Mary  cantered  by  on  Bobs  as  she  set  out  for  home. 
A  pang  smote  the  man  as  he  realized  that  he  had 
failed  to  warn  her  of  her  danger.  As  the  sound 
of  the  horse's  hoofs  died  away  a  strange  emotion 
shook  him.  Weak  from  his  struggles  and  the 
numbing  pressure  of  his  lashings,  a  pathetic  sense 
of  guilt  crept  accusingly  over  him.  Big  tears 
oozed  out  and  rolled  down  his  cheeks.  Half 
crazed,  he  prayed  wild  prayers  that  the  girl  might 
escape  the  evil  fate  lurking  on  her  trail. 

An  hour  passed  and  he  heard  a  voice  call 
through  the  trees.  Some  urchin  was  seeking  his 
cows.  From  the  sound  of  the  boy's  approach  he 

243 


244  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

was  coming  straight  for  him.  He  was  very  near. 
Would  he  penetrate  the  bluff?  The  spot  was 
quiet.  Evidently  the  boy  listened,  but  no  sound 
occurring  to  attract  his  curiosity,  he  turned,  whis- 
tling away,  essaying  some  other  quarter.  Then 
happened  a  surprising  thing.  He  had  made  but  a 
few  steps  through  the  grass  when  Nick's  horse 
lifted  a  sonorous  whinny.  Nick  fervently 
blessed  him  for  the  intervention.  It  sounded  like 
the  sweetest  music.  The  boy  halted  as  if  shot  and 
whirling  about  ran  into  the  bluff.  He  found  the 
horse  and  vehicle  at  once  and,  a  moment  later,  the 
man.  Alarmed  at  first  he  retreated,  but  in  a  little 
set  busily  to  work  releasing  the  captive.  In  a  very 
short  time  Nick  was  free. 

"  You  are  a  good  boy,"  said  he  gratefully  as  he 
made  swift  preparations  for  the  ride  to  the  home- 
stead. "  I  was  tied  to  that  tree  by  a  couple  of 
scamps.  I'll  let  you  know  all  about  it  again.  Just 
now  I  am  in  a  great  hurry  to  let  Ned  Pullar  know, 
for  he  is  mighty  interested.  Many  thanks,  lad. 
Bye,  bye." 

The  boy  gazed  with  astonished  eyes  as  the  man 
leaped  on  the  bare  back  of  his  horse  and  galloped 
through  the  trees. 

Nick  soon  clattered  into  the  Pullar  yard.  At 
the  sound  of  the  horseman  Ned  and  his  father 
stepped  out  of  the  stable.  The  sight  of  the  rider 
and  his  evident  excitement  filled  Ned  with  fore- 
boding. 


THE  STOEM  EOCK  245 

"  Why  the  rush,  Nick  ? "  said  he  as  he  ran  up. 

"  Listen  hard,  Ned,"  was  the  swift  reply.  "  Get 
your  bronc.  I  can  talk  while  you  saddle.  I  hit 
out  this  way  this  morning  to  let  you  know,  but 
Sykes  and  Foyle  copped  me  in  the  bluff  near  the 
school.  You're  up  against  blankety  hard  luck. 
That  deal  of  Foyle's  was  a  frame-up.  I  was  in  it 
and  helped  the  gang  dope  your  old  man.  I'm 
squealing  now  because  you've  got  the  whitest  little 
girl  in  the  West  and  you'll  have  to  burn  the  trail  if 
you  are  going  to  save  her  from  Reddy  Sykes. 
McClure's  bloods  are  waiting  somewhere  over  the 
lake  to  run  them  to  Whytewold.  There  they  take 
the  Limited  for  God  knows  where.  You  may  be 
able  to  overhaul  them,  for  this  wind  is  mussing  up 
the  lake  something  fierce  and  they'll  lose  a  couple 
of  hours  scooting  around  the  west  end.  Take  a 
look  at  Grant's  Landing  on  the  go-by." 

By  the  time  Nick  uttered  the  last  words  Ned 
was  in  the  saddle. 

"  Thank  you,  Nick,"  was  his  grateful  cry  as  he 
flashed  away. 

"  We'll  follow  him,"  cried  Edward  Pullar,  as 
he  watched  the  flying  horseman  vanish  at  the  end 
of  the  lane.  "  Sykes  is  a  dangerous  man  and  the 
lad  has  nothing  but  his  bare  hands." 

Leaning  low  over  Darkey's  neck,  Ned  heartened 
the  lithe  brute  with  the  courage  of  his  voice.  As 
they  flew  along,  the  school  gleamed  down  a  vista. 
The  memory  of  their  last  moments  together,  of 


246  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

the  small  white  figure  so  lonely  and  beset,  swept 
him  with  an  agony  of  apprehension.  Though  his 
horse  was  skimming  the  trail  with  the  speed  of  a 
swallow,  their  pace  seemed  laggard  to  the  an- 
guished rider  and  he  plunged  in  his  spurs.  Smit- 
ten with  fear,  the  animal  leaped  ahead  at  break- 
neck speed.  Instantly  Ned  realized  the  wanton- 
ness of  the  act.  Pulling  gently  he  called  penitently 
into  the  black  ears: 

"  Forgive  me,  Darkey.  I  was  cruel.  I  will  do 
it  no  more.  But  carry  me  fast,  lad." 

The  kind  tone  soothed  the  horse  and  he  settled 
into  a  steady  stride  that  devoured  the  miles. 
Overhead  a  change  had  taken  place  unnoticed  by 
Ned  in  the  hurry-skurry  of  his  start.  The  belt  of 
blue  clouds  had  spread  over  the  sky.  Above  was 
the  explosion  and  flame  of  the  breaking  storm, 
about  him  the  whirl  of  the  wind  and  enveloping 
clouds  of  dust.  It  was  a  wild  race  through  the 
hurricane  to  the  brow  of  the  Northwest  Cut. 
Recklessly  they  dashed  down  the  ravine,  the  sound 
of  the  pounding  hoofs  lost  in  the  roar  of  the  tem- 
pest. The  dense  cloud  masses  flung  over  them  the 
shadow  of  a  deep  twilight. 

Bursting  from  the  Cut  he  halted  on  the  crown  of 
the  slope.  Below  was  the  lake,  a  frowning  gloom, 
horrible  with  the  white  fangs  of  the  storm  caps. 
High  over  the  Storm  Rock  rose  an  ominous  cloud 
of  spray.  Above  the  hiss  of  the  whistling  wind  he 
could  hear  the  low  moan  of  writhing  waters. 


THE  STORM  KOCK  247 

Swiftly  he  read  the  turbid  surface,  tracing  the 
shore  line  now  scarcely  distinguishable  in  the 
brown  murk.  Near  at  hand  was  Grant's  Landing. 
He  started  as  he  detected  upon  it  a  group  of  peo- 
ple. They  were  looking  out  into  the  lake.  At 
sight  of  them,  there  came  to  him  an  augury  of 
evil.  With  a  heavy  foreboding  he  sent  his  horse 
thundering  down  the  slope.  Leaping  from  the 
saddle  he  ran  in  among  the  watchers.  In  the  up- 
roar they  had  not  heard  him  ride  up. 

"  There  is  something  wrong !  "  cried  a  fearful 
voice.  "  They  are  drifting.  They  will  strike  the 
rock." 

He  recognized  the  voice  of  Margaret  Grant. 

Her  father  was  the  first  to  discover  his  pres- 
ence. 

"Aye,  lad!  Is  it  you?  'Tis  terrible  distress 
we  are  in.  McClure's  bairn  is  oot  on  the  fell 
water." 

He  pointed  to  the  foam-streaked  lake. 

"  Where  are  they  ?  "  shouted  Ned. 

Margaret  heard  his  voice. 

"  Ned,  Ned ! "  she  cried,  running  to  him. 
"  Mary's  out  on  the  lake  with  Sykes  and  Foyle. 
There  they  are." 

Straining  his  eyes  he  followed  her  hand.  The 
boat  was  far  out,  visible  only  in  fleeting  glimpses 
when  riding  the  crest  of  a  wave.  They  were  run- 
ning before  the  wind,  bearing  down  on  the  Storm 
Rock.  Should  the  boat  strike,  it  would  be  crushed 


248  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

like  an  egg-shell.  They  were  now  so  close  no  es- 
cape was  possible.  It  was  but  a  matter  of  mo- 
ments. 

As  the  terrible  truth  came  home  to  Ned,  he  stood 
motionless,  impotent,  looking  with  blanching  face 
on  the  impending  tragedy.  A  great  sob  rolled  up 
his  breast.  He  wanted  to  scream  a  warning  over 
the  chaos  of  wind  and  flood.  Suddenly  it  seemed 
to  him  but  a  little  way  to  Mary  after  all.  Only 
the  threatening  chasm  of  the  malignant  waters. 
Should  it  keep  them  apart?  He  smiled  that 
strange,  innocent  smile  that  came  out  somewhere 
from  the  indomitable  depths  of  him.  He  would 
take  up  the  gauge  of  the  malign  thing  grinning  at 
him  out  there  in  the  gloom.  He  would  swim  to 
the  rock.  Running  far  up  the  shore  he  divested 
himself  of  boots,  coat  and  vest  and  threw  himself 
on  the  rollers. 

Charley  Grant  had  followed  him,  thinking  he 
had  espied  some  means  of  rescue.  As  he  saw  him 
plunge  into  the  lake  he  shouted  wildly: 

"  Come  back,  mon !  Ye're  daft  to  reesk  it. 
Ye'll  perish,  lad." 

But  Ned  could  not  hear  him. 

To  the  little  company  upon  the  landing  it  was 
a  moment  of  horror.  Their  fearful  interest  alter- 
nated between  the  daring  swimmer  and  the  boat 
careering  upon  the  rock. 

"  Mother !  They  are  striking !  "  cried  Margaret 
in  a  voice  of  awe. 


THE  STOEM  EOCK  249 

As  she  was  speaking  the  boat  rose  high,  poised 
a  moment  on  the  black  waters,  then  vanished. 

All  eyes  were  strained  to  snatch  a  glimpse  of  the 
unfortunate  craft.  But  no  vestige  of  it  could  they 
discover. 

"  They  are  gone,  Mother !  Gone !  "  moaned  the 
girl,  hiding  her  face  in  her  mother's  breast. 

"  Can  you  see  the  lad  ?  "  called  the  mother,  her 
vision  blurred  in  tears. 

Shading  his  eyes,  Charley  Grant  searched  the 
waves. 

"  Aye,  aye !  I  see  him  yet,"  was  the  relieved 
cry. 

For  a  few  minutes  they  were  able  to  see  the 
head  of  the  swimmer  bob  about  on  the  tossing 
flood.  Then  it,  too,  vanished  in  the  ominous 
gloom. 

Flung  high  on  a  hissing  breaker,  Ned  saw  the 
boat  strike  and  go  out  like  the  snuffing  of  a  light. 
For  a  moment  his  heart  seemed  to  hold  its  beat 
and  he  lay  weak  and  helpless  in  the  trough  of  the 
wave.  Then  he  prayed  as  men  do  when  they  come 
to  grips  with  death.  There  came  a  response.  A 
new  vigour  flooded  his  body  and  with  strokes  of 
powerful  sweep,  he  swam  on  toward  the  rock.  It 
was  now  down  wind  and  he  made  straight  for  it, 
taking  the  chance  of  being  dashed  upon  its  granite 
face.  Watching  with  eagle  eye  he  bided  his  time, 
keeping  his  course  dead  upon  the  rock's  centre. 


250  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

As  it  loomed  above  a  huge  swell  lifted  him. 
Blinded  with  spray  he  lay  on  the  breaker  awaiting 
the  onset.  It  flung  him  on  the  rock  with  the  cata- 
pult of  its  snapping  crest.  Holding  out  his  hands 
he  sought  to  ward  the  crash  from  his  head.  His 
strong  arms  took  the  impact,  the  bones  of  his 
shoulders  creaking  under  the  strain.  Withal  his 
head  struck  a  jagged  point.  Sense  reeled  and  he 
rolled  hither  and  thither,  like  a  log  on  the  churn- 
ing wash.  By  a  mighty  effort  he  righted  himself 
and  feeling  a  sharp  edge,  clung  to  it  with  all  the 
strength  of  his  powerful  clutch.  Caught  in  the 
lateral  flow  of  the  split  wave  he  was  carried  to  the 
side.  Clinging  to  the  jutting  ledge  by  a  sort  of 
hand-over-hand  movement,  he  was  floated  around 
the  rock.  So  far  was  he  borne  that  he  could  see 
the  quieter  waters  of  the  lee  shelter.  Ten  feet 
more  and  he  would  be  there.  Then  ensued  a  fierce 
struggle.  The  subsiding  wave  sought  to  drag  him 
back  into  the  lake.  With  hands  torn  on  the  ragged 
edges  he  fought  to  retain  his  precarious  hold.  A 
moment's  baffling  balancing  and  the  wave  passed 
on.  Quickly  he  drew  himself  into  a  shielding 
niche.  There  he  rested,  breathing  heavily.  In  a 
little  he  would  search  the  rock. 

Clambering  up  the  side  he  attempted  to  scan  the 
upper  surface,  at  the  same  instant  lifting  a  shout. 
But  the  wind  snatched  the  cry  from  his  lips  and 
flung  him  down  the  rock.  The  brief  glance  had 
disclosed  to  him  an  astonishing  thing,  however. 


THE  STORM  ROCK  251 

The  rock  was  as  bare  as  the  nude  surface  of  a 
melting  berg.  The  cottonwoods  and  their  patch 
of  clinging  turf  had  been  swept  away,  leaving  only 
the  naked  contour  of  the  original  monolith.  The 
emptiness  of  the  place  smote  him  with  a  dread 
fear.  Climbing  cautiously  into  the  teeth  of  the 
storm  he  shouted  again,  throwing  a  name  into  the 
uproar.  But  the  wind  hurled  him  back  once  more. 
As  he  caught  his  feet  he  was  thrilled  to  hear  a 
shout  It  came  from  the  spot  where  he  had  struck. 
Shouting  with  the  full  power  of  his  throat  he 
clambered  to  the  edge.  A  heavy  billow  had  dashed 
upon  the  reef,  flinging  aloft  a  cloud  of  spray. 
Something  at  the  base  of  the  cloud  held  his  fasci- 
nated gaze.  Fighting  the  buffeting  deluge  he 
sought  to  visualize  the  thing  before  him.  In  the 
blur  of  the  gray  mist  he  thought  he  defined  a  phan- 
tom figure  balanced  on  the  wave-battered  edge  of 
the  rock.  One  arm  hung  strangely  at  its  side, 
while  the  other  was  lifted  in  effort  to  maintain  a 
footing  upon  the  slippery  surface.  As  he  looked 
there  was  a  thunderous  roar.  An  enormous  wave 
had  rolled  up.  Lifting  the  struggling  figure  on  its 
foaming  crest  it  whisked  it  across  the  rock.  In 
the  swift  passage  it  fought  to  catch  its  feet,  suc- 
ceeding for  the  briefest  instant  only.  Upon  the 
lee  edge  of  the  rock  the  figure  stood  up  in  the  wave 
and  lifted  a  warding  hand.  But  it  could  not  breast 
the  whelming  flow  and  was  swept  like  a  chip  into 
the  darkness  beyond.  As  the  figure  vanished  into 


252  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

the  mists  there  broke  on  Ned's  ear  a  weird  shout. 
It  sounded  like  the  mocking  laugh  of  a  fiend. 

A  shudder  swept  over  the  hearer.  The  phantom 
was  Chesley  Sykes. 

While  the  horror  of  the  moment  was  still  heavy 
upon  him  he  heard  what  seemed  like  an  answering 
shout.  The  quality  of  it  thrilled  him,  for  it  was  a 
woman's  cry.  Looking  over  the  bare  surface  he 
was  amazed  to  detect  the  rump  stump  of  the 
ragged  oak.  Low  at  its  base  lay  a  clinging 
shadow.  Megaphoning  with  his  hands  he  shouted 
with  all  his  might.  He  was  electrified  to  catch  a 
distinct  reply.  The  voice?  He  knew  it.  A  wild 
joy  surged  through  him.  It  was  Mary.  She  was 
clinging  to  the  oak. 

Swamped  by  the  panic  of  the  mad  moment  he 
was  about  to  dash  over  the  rock,  when  there 
flashed  before  him  the  fate  of  that  phantom  figure. 
He  restrained  the  wild  desire  and  studying  the 
rock  saw  that  by  a  detour  of  the  lee  side  he  could 
reach  to  within  a  few  yards  of  the  oak.  A  swift 
run  over  a  dangerous  buttress  and  he  would  be 
with  Mary.  Fearful  that  the  tremendous  waves 
might  wrench  her  free,  he  worked  about  the  rock 
with  furious  impatience,  making  the  circuit  with- 
out mishap.  With  a  sharp  flit  he  was  over  the 
buttress. 

The  girl  was  plainly  nearing  the  limit  of  her  en- 
durance and  looked  into  his  face  with  a  half-fear- 
ful wonder  as  he  lifted  her  in  his  arms. 


THE  STOEM  BOOK  263 

"Ned!"  she  cried,  "you  are  not  Sykes?  I 
thought  I  heard  him  cry  a  little  ago  with  such  a 
terrible,  screaming  laugh." 

"  It  is  Ned,  dear,"  was  his  cry  as  he  placed  her 
more  securely  against  the  oak.  "  Rest  a  little. 
You  are  very  weak  but  you  will  recover  shortly." 

Kneeling  upon  the  rock,  he  took  the  oak  in  his 
hands  and,  turning  his  back  to  the  storm,  crouched 
above  her,  so  shielding  her  from  the  pounding 
waves  and  the  chill  of  the  hurricane.  Huge  bil- 
lows continued  to  deluge  the  rock  and  their  smash- 
ing force  soon  began  to  tell.  She  discovered  be- 
fore he  did  that  his  strength  was  going.  After  an 
exhausting  struggle  with  an  unusually  powerful 
wave,  she  called  to  him. 

"  Let  me  go,  Ned.  You  cannot  stand  much 
more.  That  last  almost  swung  you  about  the 
tree." 

"  I  will  crouch  lower,"  said  Ned.  "  The  wind 
will  subside  soon.  Then  I  can  carry  you  to  that 
shelter  under  the  ledge." 

Thrilled  by  the  magic  of  her  clinging  touch  he 
would  not  acknowledge  the  fearful  inroads  the 
long  struggle  had  made  on  his  strength.  Now  he 
knew  no  terror.  True,  a  dizziness  would  confuse 
him  at  times  on  the  heels  of  the  heavier  swells,  but 
he  clutched  the  tree  and  clung  till  it  passed. 

"  You  cannot  stand  many  more,"  cried  the  girl 
fearfully.  "  Leave  me.  You  can  still  make  the 
shelter  or  swim " 


254  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

"  Hush,  Mary !  "  was  the  cheery  reply.  "  You 
would  rob  me  of  the  happiest  moment  I  have  ever 
known.  We'll  stick  together,  dear.  We  are  good 
for  a  lot  of  roughing  yet." 

"  You  will  not  leave  me,  Ned?  " 

"  Not  ever,  Mary." 

"  Ned,  dear  heart ! "  was  the  caressing  cry. 
"  This  is  a  wonderful  moment.  It  is  worth  all  the 
cruelty  of  these  last,  long  months  and  the  horror 
of  this  terrible  day.  You  are  the  dearest  pal." 

"  Pal  ?  "  cried  Ned,  looking  into  the  dark  eyes. 
"What  pals  we'll  be!" 

That  they  were  tortured  with  the  smiting  waves 
and  facing  death  with  each  succeeding  roller,  only 
enhanced  the  supreme  joy  of  their  confession. 

"  We  are  going  to  get  out  of  this  all  right,"  said 
Ned,  as  he  breathed  heavily  from  a  battle  with  a 
mighty  wave.  "  You  hardly  think  it  possible,  lit- 
tle one,  you  have  been  so  broken  by  this  battering 
storm.  But  we'll  beat  it  all,  water,  wind  and  hu- 
man guile." 

Suddenly  he  straightened  up  and  placed  hand  to 
ear. 

"  Listen,  Mary !  "  he  called.  "  Can  you  not  hear 
it?  There  are  voices  coming  up  the  wind." 

They  listened.  From  the  lee  of  the  rock  came  a 
faint  shout.  Together  they  replied.  Again  the 
shout  and  this  time  astonishingly  close. 

"  There  is  a  boat  near,"  cried  Ned.  "  I  caught 
a  glimpse  of  it  through  the  spray." 


THE  BTOBM  EOCK  255 

With  the  sudden  prospect  of  rescue,  hope  leaped 
up  afresh.  A  new  courage  entered  their  minds 
and  a  strange  new  strength  their  bodies.  Both 
were  opportune,  for  now  they  entered  upon  a  des- 
perate struggle  with  successions  of  formidable 
waves.  They  had  nearly  passed  when  the  black 
dizziness,  that  of  late  had  been  recurring  with 
alarming  frequency,  fell  suddenly  upon  Ned. 
Fainting  under  the  exertion  he  sank.  His  head 
hung  over  the  edge  of  the  rock  and  only  the  super- 
human efforts  of  his  companion  prevented  him 
from  plunging  headlong  into  the  lake. 

"  Mary !  "  he  cried  as  consciousness  came  dimly 
back.  "  I  have  been  asleep.  Did  the  roller  beat 
me  that  time  ?  " 

"  You  were  nearly  gone,"  cried  the  girl  faintly. 

"  How  did  you  ever  hold  me,  dear  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  Ned.  But  you  are  here.  You 
cannot  stand  another.  Is  the  boat  near  ?  " 

The  girl's  voice  had  a  terror  in  it  that  smote 
Ned  with  pity. 

The  boat  at  that  moment  rode  through  the 
choppy  waves,  to  shelter  at  the  base  of  the  rock. 
The  instant  the  prow  struck  a  great  figure  leaped 
out  of  her  and  scrambled  up  over  the  ledge.  As  it 
straightened  up  for  the  dash  to  the  oak,  Ned  was 
amazed  to  behold  the  face  of  Rob  McClure.  It 
was  distorted  by  a  terror  born  of  no  sense  of 
physical  danger.  There  was  a  poignant  agony  in 
his  voice  as  he  cried: 


256  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

"  Mary,  Mary !    Are  you  here  ?  " 

"  She  is  here  and  safe,"  shouted  Ned  in  re- 
ply. 

Stooping  down  Ned  exerted  all  his  strength  and 
lifting  the  small  form,  placed  her  in  her  father's 
arms. 

"  Brace  against  that  stump,"  cried  Ned  as  a  bil- 
low hit  them. 

"  Daddy !  You  have  come !  "  cried  the  girl  as 
she  nestled  in  her  father's  arms.  Upon  her  face 
was  the  look  of  wonder  inexplicable  with  which 
she  had  greeted  Ned.  In  Ned's  eyes  was  a  won- 
der even  greater.  He  was  pondering  this  astound- 
ing enigma  when  a  cloud  swept  over  his  mind  with 
a  horrible  enveloping  and  he  fell  on  the  rock.  A 
fresh  wave  clutched  him  as  two  shadows  darted 
to  where  he  lay. 

"  Just  in  time ! "  cried  the  voice  of  Andy  Bis- 
sett,  as  he  fought  the  wave  for  possession  of  the 
inert  form. 

"  Shure,  'tis  full  spint  is  the  lad,"  was  the  re- 
sponse of  Easy  Murphy.  "  There's  been  a  divil  of 
a  scrap  wid  wind  and  wathurr  on  this  bauld- 
headed  stone." 

"  It  has  been  a  wonderful  fight,"  agreed  Andy 
as  they  got  their  burden  safely  out  of  the  clutch 
of  the  breakers. 

"  Thrue,  me  hearty!  And  the  swate  colleen  wuz 
worth  it,  begobs." 

In  the  boat  were  Lawrie  and  Jean  Benoit  and 


THE  STOBM  EOCK  257 

another — Foyle.    He  was  haggard  and  dishevelled 
and  silent. 

Securing  their  precious  salvage  the  crew  ex- 
plored the  rock,  shouting  loudly  in  hope  of  an- 
other survivor,  but  the  only  reply  was  the  uproar 
of  the  tempest.  Convinced  that  no  living  thing  re- 
mained they  shoved  off  and  ran  for  the  southeast 
shore. 


XXV 
THE  EMPTY  SADDLE 

AFTER  tearing  free  from  Sykes,  Bobs  gal- 
loped through  the  woods  till  with  true 
broncho  instinct  he  circled  to  the  trail  and 
shot  post  haste  for  home.  After  a  time  his  terror 
passed  and  he  reduced  his  speed  to  a  comfortable 
canter,  then  to  a  trot  and  finally  to  a  walk.  Loiter- 
ing leisurely  along  the  way  he  nibbled  choice  tufts 
of  grass. 

When  the  hour  of  Mary's  home-coming  arrived 
and  there  was  no  sight  of  her  along  the  Valley 
trail,  Helen  McClure  grew  mildly  anxious.  With 
the  passage  of  an  hour  and  still  no  sign  she  be- 
came alarmed  and  consulted  McClure.  He  be- 
trayed no  evidences  of  anxiety  and  endeavoured  to 
calm  the  agitated  woman.  It  was  during  the  furi- 
ous outbreak  of  the  storm  that  she  saw  the  rider- 
less horse  trot  swiftly  down  the  lane.  A  dread 
seized  her  and  she  called  to  Rob. 

He  was  seated  in  his  office,  his  eye  fixed  in  re- 
markable tenderness  upon  the  two  faces  that  for 
the  last  few  days  had  haunted  him.  The  an- 
guished tone  of  his  wife  smote  him  and  a  wave  of 

258 


THE  EMPTY  SADDLE  269 

shame  passed  over  his  face.  He  dropped  his  head 
upon  his  hand.  A  curious  enervation  sapped  his 
strength.  That  cry  with  its  tender  distress  broke 
something  hard  within  him.  He  could  not  lift  up 
his  head.  The  fact  of  the  bribe  and  its  mighty 
lure  were  forgotten.  In  the  space  of  one  marvel- 
lous instant  he  became  humane.  In  upon  him 
surged  an  overwhelming  solicitude  for  Mary's 
safety.  Endearing  memories  rushed  upon  him. 
His  dishonour  and  the  pathos  of  Mary's  betrayal 
cried  out  in  the  smitten  cry  of  his  wife.  Remorse 
and  contrition  were  strangely  confused  in  the  mind 
that  refused  to  work  with  its  accustomed  celerity. 
Grimly  he  reflected  that  the  office  of  the  blue  auto- 
matic was  desirable.  Opening  the  drawer  he 
thrust  his  hand  within.  The  gun  was  gone.  Who 
could  take  it?  His  wife?  Mary?  Ah,  it  was 
Mary.  He  brushed  his  brow  in  a  troubled  gesture. 
In  upon  the  deepening  gloom  burst  a  disquieting 
fear. 

"  Rob !  "  came  the  cry  again  in  a  low  frightened 
tone.  "  Bobs  has  come  home  without  Mary.  He 
must  have  thrown  her.  Perhaps  she  is  injured  or 
—killed." 

"  Tut,  tut,  Helen!  "  was  his  answer.  "  She  is 
not  hurt.  Have  no  fear  for  Mary.  She  is  too 
good  a  rider.  She  is  walking  along  the  trail." 

"  But  it  is  so  late,"  objected  the  mother 
anxiously. 

Together  they  went  out  to  where  Bobs  was  re- 


260  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

freshing  himself  at  the  trough.  A  quick  examina- 
tion of  the  horse  aroused  in  McClure  a  new  un- 
easiness. The  bridle  was  torn  and  the  rein  gone. 
Suddenly  Helen  discovered  something  Rob  hoped 
she  would  not  see. 

"  Here  are  marks  of  the  spurs,"  called  his  wife. 
"  Mary  never  uses  these  terrible  things." 

She  pointed  to  red  dabs  along  the  flank. 

Passing  about  the  horse  Rob  discovered  a 
bloody  mark  on  Bobs'  white  hip  that  aroused  a 
panic  in  his  own  breast.  Beneath  the  smear  of 
blood  there  was  no  wound.  His  wife  detected 
what  he  was  looking  at. 

"  That  cannot  be  from  the  spurs,"  she  cried  in 
a  stricken  voice.  "  Mary  has  met  with  an  acci- 
dent, that  she  made  a  wild  effort  to  escape." 

She  sought  his  eye. 

"  Listen,  Helen !  "  said  he  in  a  low  tone,  trans- 
fixed by  her  compelling  glance.  "  Do  not  jump  to 
wild  conclusions  and  believe  all  I  say.  You  may 
never  forgive  me.  You  must  believe  me.  Mary 
is  not  hurt.  She  has  gone  with  Chesley  Sykes. 
They  will  come  back  again.  He  was  to  intercept 
her  on  her  way  from  school.  It  was  all  arranged. 
I  gave  my  consent  and  Hank  Foyle  was  to  help 
him  out.  He  will  marry  our  girl." 

His  confession  had  come  in  a  slow,  passionless 
voice.  As  the  truth  dawned  upon  her  the  blood 
receded  from  her  face,  leaving  her  white  and  hag- 
gard. Old  age  seemed  to  have  fallen  magically 


THE  EMPTY  SADDLE  261 

upon  her.  Her  lips  moved  as  if  to  speak,  but  no 
sound  issued  forth.  She  reeled  as  if  struck.  Rob 
threw  his  arms  about  her.  At  his  touch  she  stood 
erect  and  rigid.  Thrusting  him  gently  from  her, 
she  turned  away  with  a  low  moan. 

With  bowed  head  he  led  Bobs  to  the  stable  and 
went  slowly,  dazedly  into  the  house.  All  within 
was  quiet.  The  stillness  troubled  him.  His  wife 
had  secluded  herself.  He  called  her  name  but  no 
answer  came  back.  Making  a  swift  search  he 
found  her  at  length  in  Mary's  room.  She  knelt 
before  the  bed  fondling  some  trinkets  she  had 
spread  out  upon  the  counterpane.  Her  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  a  tiny  photograph.  It  was  a  likeness 
of  Mary  when  a  babe. 

"  Ah,  poor  little  baby !  "  she  whispered.  "  They 
have  broken  your  dear  little  heart." 

As  Rob  watched  the  stricken  creature  an  ex- 
quisite pain  stabbed  his  own  soul.  Walking  over 
to  her  he  threw  his  great  arms  about  her. 

"  Listen,  Helen,"  said  he  brokenly.  "  Before 
God  Almighty  I'll  bring  Mary  back  to  you." 

She  seemed  not  to  hear  him. 

Rising  he  walked  out. 

Hitching  up  his  team  he  pushed  them  at  a  ter- 
rific pace  for  Magee's  Cove.  He  arrived  at  the 
Cove  thankful  to  find  that  the  bloods  were  still 
there.  He  was  ahead  of  the  boat.  He  soon  dis- 
covered it  out  in  the  lake  and  in  grave  peril.  Be- 
fore he  could  fully  realize  the  situation  the  boat 


262  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

crashed  upon  the  Storm  Rock.  In  the  closing  dusk 
he  fancied  he  saw  a  gleam  of  white  upon  the  rock. 
Obsessed  with  a  wild  hope  that  it  was  Mary  he 
sent  his  horses  at  a  gallop  to  Magee's  and  got  out 
his  big  steam  launch  just  as  Andy  and  his  party 
came  up,  bent  on  the  same  purpose.  Supplement- 
ing the  engine  with  oars  they  drove  for  the  rock, 
picking  Foyle  up  near  shore.  The  tale  he  gave 
them  impelled  them  to  heroic  effort  and  they 
fought  their  way  steadily  toward  the  rock.  When 
near  they  discovered  two  figures,  taking  them  for 
Mary  and  Sykes.  Their  astonishment  knew  no 
bounds  when  they  found  out  that  Mary's  com- 
panion was  Ned. 

The  return  was  effected  easily  and  speedily. 
The  boat  was  cutting  through  the  breakers  not  far 
from  shore  when  Lawrie,  who  was  in  the  prow, 
gave  a  peculiar  cry  and  signalled  the  reversal  of 
the  engine.  It  was  called  forth  by  an  object  rock- 
ing amid  the  flotsam.  Instantly  the  boat  was 
halted  and  backed  to  where  the  object  lay  in  the 
water. 

"  My  God ! "  cried  Easy  Murphy,  as  they  rode 
alongside.  "  It's  Sykes,  poor  divil !  " 

At  the  words  a  moan  came  from  somebody. 
Through  McClure  passed  a  shudder  and  he  drew 
Mary  close  to  him.  Producing  a  rope  they  at- 
tached it  to  the  gruesome  thing  out  in  the  waves 
and  started  shoreward  once  more. 

Mary  was  taken  direct  to  her  home.   Mrs.  Grant 


THE  EMPTY  SADDLE  263 

insisted  on  warmth  and  refreshment,  but  Rob 
would  hear  of  no  delay. 

"  Her  mother  is  waiting,"  said  he,  with  the  sad- 
dest of  smiles. 

The  drive  was  accomplished  at  a  speed  that 
brought  the  bays  to  rest  at  the  McClure  threshold 
in  a  reek  of  sweat. 

On  that  home-coming  no  eyes  must  peer.  Upon 
Helen  McClure's  face  lay  the  ineffaceable  scars  of 
her  dark  vigil.  But  her  heart  was  healed  by  the 
miracle  of  the  storm. 

And  Ned?  The  tonic  of  love  and  youth  more 
than  pulled  him  through. 


XXVI 

THE  RED  KNIGHT  SINGS  OF  THE 
FAIRIES 

THE  sun  was  sinking  behind  a  sky  of 
golden  fleeces.  Through  the  dazzling 
cloud-rims  streamed  the  lava  of  sunny 
light,  flooding  The  Qu'Appelle  with  its  restful  glow. 
Below  lay  the  lake,  a  rippling  basin  of  molten  gold. 

Everywhere  the  shadowy  greens  of  the  crests 
were  checkered  with  square  patches  of  ripe  wheat. 
Some  fields  were  mellow  for  the  sickle.  Upon  the 
morrow  the  binders  would  hum  the  overture  of  the 
harvest  symphony. 

Two  watchers  sat  on  the  Grant  lawn  drinking  in 
the  liquid  glow  of  the  west.  Down  upon  them 
rolled  a  field  of  Red  Knight,  covering  the  terrace 
to  their  feet.  The  light  of  a  blazing  summer  and 
its  dews  and  rains  lay  before  them,  stored  in  a 
forest  of  magic  heads.  The  grain  was  standing 
thick  and  erect,  its  cream-gold  surface  dappled 
with  pursuing  waves  of  shade  and  shine.  The  eyes 
of  the  watchers  rested  on  the  sea  of  plumes.  They 
were  talking  of  it. 

"  Wonderful !  Indeed !  "  exclaimed  Margaret 
264 


THE  RED  KjSlGHT  SINGS  265 

softly.  "  It  is  as  wonderful  as  Ned  and  his  father 
think  it  is." 

"  Yes !  "  agreed  Andy.  "  I  for  one  believe  it 
will  far  surpass  their  hopes.  And  yet  I  am 
scarcely  qualified  to  judge  since  the  ride  of  a  cer- 
tain girl  to  the  rescue  of  The  Red  Knight.  His 
precious  gold  kernels  were  the  sesame  that  opened 
her  eyes.  I  have  a  natural  bias  toward  him  but  he 
is  a  marvel  all  the  same  and  the  king  of  cereals. 
The  scientists,  the  cereal  breeders,  even  the  millers 
agree  with  the  Pullars  and  the  farmers  in  pro- 
nouncing The  Red  Knight  a  wonder  grain.  I  be- 
lieve with  old  Edward  Pullar  that  it  will  be  the 
elixir  of  life  to  millions  of  farmers.  It  is  inter- 
esting to  conjure  just  what  this  will  mean  to 
the  future  of  our  country.  Beyond  a  doubt  it 
will  draw  the  strong  of  the  earth  to  the  virile 
North." 

Andy  paused  musing  for  a  time.  Then  he  said 
gently: 

"  There  is  something  great,  magnificently  great 
in  all  this,  something  that  dwarfs  The  Red  Knight 
himself." 

At  his  words  the  girl  sought  her  companion's 
eyes.  Swiftly  she  divined  his  thoughts. 

"  You  mean  somebody  is  great,  do  you  ?  "  said 
she. 

Andy  nodded  thoughtfully. 

"  Yes.  There  is  Edward  Pullar  and  Ned,  him- 
self, and  the  little  mother.  These  dear  neighbours 


266  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

of  ours  have  been  great  in  vision  and  patience. 
We  have  not  understood.  Most  people  about 
Pellawa  never  will.  The  old  homestead  at  The 
Craggs  has  been  a  place  of  unobtrusive  but  as- 
tounding achievement.  These  quiet  farmers  are 
mighty  benefactors.  What  farmers  they  are !  " 

"  Look ! "  cried  Margaret,  suddenly  pointing 
into  the  west. 

Along  the  distant  edge  of  the  wheat  were  mov- 
ing three  shapes,  black  shadows  of  riders  sus- 
pended in  the  amber  light  as  they  skimmed  along 
the  high  shoulder  of  an  upper  bench.  A  moment 
only  were  they  visible.  Then  they  melted  into  the 
yellow  sea. 

"  The  McClures ! "  announced  Margaret,  a  re- 
flective light  shining  in  her  eyes.  "  This  is  Mary's 
first  ride — since  the  storm.  She  is  happy  to- 
night." 

"  I  am  sure  she  is.  But  how  do  you  know  ? " 
mused  Andy. 

"  The  curvetings  of  Bobs  assured  me,"  was  the 
reply.  "  Mary  is  in  the  happy  mood  that  inspires 
Bobs  with  a  foolish  notion  that  he  has  wings  in- 
stead of  legs  and  must  fly  away." 

"  Which  reminds  me,"  said  Andy  with  a  smile, 
"  that  I,  too,  am  foolishly  happy.  Have  you  ob- 
served my  grove  lately?  If  not,  better  take  a 
careful  look." 

Margaret  followed  his  gesture.  She  saw  a 
strange  white  object  among  the  trees.  Her  eyes 


THE  KED  KNIGHT  SINGS  267 

brightened,  but  dissembling  with  feminine  facility, 
she  looked  up  in  naive  curiosity. 

"  It  is  the  gable  of  our  roof,"  explained  Andy, 
looking  deep  into  the  clear  eyes.  "  I  cut  down  that 
old  rotten  elm  that  you  might  get  a  glimpse  of 
what  is  to  be  expected — of  you.  Hum !  " 

Margaret  made  no  reply  except  a  widening  of 
innocent  eyes. 

"  To  resume,"  continued  Andy.  "  It  will  be 
plastered  before  the  frost;  during  the  winter  we 
shall  finish  it.  Then,  after  seeding,  some  day  in 
June " 

Andy  paused.  The  gaze  of  his  companion  was 
gratifyingly  intent.  He  waited. 

"  Well  ?  "  came  the  incurious  query. 

"  Well !  "  was  the  deliberate  reply.  "  What  so 
rare  as  a  bride  in  June?  " 

Margaret  read  the  face  above  her,  read  it 
deeply,  gravely,  for  a  moment,  then  released  an 
entrancing  smile. 

"  Would  you  care  to  really  know  ?  "  was  her 
arch  reply. 

"Would  I?" 

"  Then  hear !  It  is  the  bold  fellow  who  con- 
spires with  himself  against  her." 

Edward  Pullar  was  passing  among  his  head-row 
plots,  spending  a  busy  hour  in  the  cool  of  the  twi- 
light. His  eyes  were  ashine  and  a  cheerful  hum- 
ming proclaimed  a  happy  worker,  deeply  in  love 


268  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

with  his  work.  And  it  was  so,  for  was  not  the 
Red  Knight  scaling  another  wall  in  the  grand  as- 
sault? Already  the  aged  gleaner  had  harvested  a 
wealth  of  selected  heads  and  the  tub  on  the  kitchen 
floor  was  the  receptacle  of  several  gallons  of  the 
astonishing  brown-red  kernels.  There  was  a  pro- 
phetic light  on  the  old  man's  face  as  he  plucked 
the  wonderful  heads.  So  deep  was  his  self-com- 
munion that  he  was  startled  when  a  voice  called 
for  the  second  time: 

"Mr.  Pullar!" 

The  voice  was  powerful  but  suppressed,  its  tone 
familiar.  The  old  man  looked  up  in  surprise. 

Before  him  stood  Rob  McClure  and  his  wife. 
With  instinctive  gentility  he  doffed  his  hat  and 
bowed. 

"  Good-evening  to  you,  friends !  "  was  his  cor- 
dial greeting. 

"  Thank  you  for  your  kindness,  Edward  Pul- 
lar," was  McClure's  slow  reply.  "  I  have  ridden 
over  to  see  you  though  you  may  not  desire  con- 
versation with  me.  I  would  not  blame  you " 

Edward  Pullar  raised  his  hand. 

"  Hush !  My  friend !  "  he  entreated  gently,  a 
brightness  glowing  in  his  eyes.  "  I  understand  all. 
Nick  Ford  has  given  me  the  tale  without  reserve. 
The  past  has  been  very  dark  for  all  of  us ;  the  ex- 
piation— costly.  There  are  enigmas  that  remain 
unexplained  but  the  explanation  would  merely  sa- 
tiate curiosity.  It  would  not  alter  anything.  We 


THE  BED  KNIGHT  SINGS  269 

have  forgotten  the  past.  Life  is  new,  sacredly  new 
for  Ned  and  me — since  the  storm.  We  want  no 
confession,  no  ceaseless  grieving,  simply  your  dear 
friendship.  We  are  looking  ahead  into  the  glori- 
ously happy  days.  Give  me  your  hands." 

The  others  stepped  impulsively  to  him  and 
seized  his  hands. 

"  You  mean  it !  I  know  you  mean  it ! "  said 
Rob  McClure,  his  great  eyes  lingering  reverently 
on  the  old  man's  face.  "  Do  you  know  that  we 
attempted  to  steal  your  bins  of  Red  Knight  ?  That 
we  sold  your  farm  by  a  devil's  ruse?  That  we 
fought  Ned,  nine  to  one,  with  savage  design  to 
maim  him  for  life?  That  we  planned  a  terrible 
wrong  and  carry  the  red  brand  of  crime?  Do 
you  .  .  ." 

"  Hush !  My  friend !  "  cried  the  old  man,  stem- 
ming the  hot  torrent  of  self-condemnation.  "  Do 
not  recall  it,  I  implore  you.  I  know  it  all,  but  it 
is  cast  behind.  We  hold  in  our  memories  only 
the  joys  of  those  dark  days,  for  there  was  much 
that  was  precious.  Besides,  there  are  the  bairns. 
For  their  sakes  and  for  our  own  I  will  be  having 
you  always  for  my  friends." 

"  Edward  Pullarl  "  cried  the  soft,  thrilled  voice 
of  Helen  McClure.  "  God  will  bless  you  for  those 
noble  words.  He  will  nourish  this  dear  friendship 
into  which  you  are  taking  us." 

As  she  spoke  the  moon  rolled  up  over  the 
prairie  edge,  throwing  over  them  all  a  faint, 


270  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

rosy  light  through  the  gauzy  fringe  of  a  low 
cloud. 

"  How  wonderful !  "  cried  Helen  McClure.  "  It 
is  the  warm  light  of  promise." 

Through  the  shadows  of  the  young  night  came 
suddenly  the  voice  of  laughter,  silvery  as  the  call 
of  a  bird  to  its  mate.  It  was  barely  audible  in- 
deed, but  distinct  and  athrob  with  joy.  It  was 
Mary's  voice.  At  the  sound  a  wave  of  deep  emo- 
tion swept  over  the  three  people  and  their  hands 
tightened  in  a  clinging  grip. 

Mary  was  in  just  the  fettle  Margaret  had  sur- 
mised. Discovering  Ned  busy  at  his  binders,  she 
had  lured  him  with  her  call.  In  a  moment  he  was 
with  her  and  gathered  her  into  his  arms.  About 
them  flowed  the  light  of  the  moon,  bathing  tree 
trunks  and  leaves  and  the  rippling  wheat  in  its 
soft,  red  shine. 

"  See  her !  "  cried  the  girl,  pointing  to  the  glow- 
ing orb  veiled  in  its  tracery  of  leaves  and  limbs. 
"  Have  you  ever  seen  her  so  benign  ?  " 

"  Never !  "  cried  Ned  happily.  "  To-night  she 
is  witching.  She  is  painting  you  with  her  dainty 
rouge,  face  and  lips,  and  this  soft,  brown  hair.  In 
your  eyes  her  light  of  wonderful  old  rose  is  the 
light  of  dear  desire." 

"  Evidently  she  holds  a  spell,"  teased  Mary, 
"  and  does  not  scruple  to  throw  dream  stuff  into 
the  foolish  eyes  of  young  farmers." 


THE  BED  KNIGHT  SINGS  271 

"What  an  occult  magician  she  is!"  cried  Ned 
delightedly,  abandoning  himself  to  the  deceit  of 
the  moment.  "  She  has  everything  about  us  rev- 
elling. The  little  winds  are  flirting  scandalously 
with  your  curls  and  there  is  a  whispering  music 
out  there  in  the  moving  grain.  There  are  voices 
in  the  wheat  that  haunt  me.  Often  have  I  dreamed 
of  them  but  never  have  I  caught  their  singing  un- 
til now.  Something  tells  me  you  understand — you 
favourite  sorceress  of  rose-light  moons." 

"  This  is  our  mad-moon,  Ned,"  laughed  Mary 
softly.  "  I  begin  to  feel  the  strange  thrill  of  its 
lunacy.  This  old-rose  light  is  a  glamourous  thing. 
Put  your  cheek  against  mine,  dear  pal,  and  I'll 
whisper  to  you  the  secret  that  is  throbbing  in  the 
heart  of  our  wonderful  Knight. 

"  His  voices  come  sweetly  in  stealing  from  very 
far  and  in  all  their  singing  there  is  a  tender  tale 
they  tell  of  kind  eyes  that  glanced  upon  him  one 
great  day  and  of  a  gentle  hand  that  plucked  him 
out  of  the  wilds  and  set  his  roots  in  the  wise  hearts 
of  men.  With  a  million,  adoring  tongues  he  is 
hymning  to-night  the  tender  spirit  of  Kitty  Bel- 
aire.  Hark  to  the  legends  he  sings  of  the  coming 
days!  One  beautiful  noon  your  father,  Ned,  told 
me  a  remarkable  thing.  '  The  Red  Knight/  said 
he,  *  will  push  the  grain  belt  three  hundred  miles 
nearer  the  poles.'  It  is  of  this  The  Red  Knight  is 
whispering  now.  His  prophetic  voices  are  wing- 
ing in  from  everywhere  and  they  tell  of  a  won- 


272  THE  VALLEY  OF  GOLD 

drous  host  trekking  the  illimitable  plains  of  this 
magic  North.  Listen,  Ned,  and  you  will  hear  their 
tramp  through  the  enchanting  glow  of  our  mad 
rose  moon." 

"  I  can  hear  it,  Mary !  "  was  the  hushed  reply  as 
he  nestled  the  brown  head  close.  "  And  in  all  the 
tramping  of  the  countless  feet  I  hear  a  fairy  patter 
like  the  sound  of  falling  leaves.  Are  they  the  frag- 
ile feet  of  the  fairy  children  flitting  to  us  out  of 
the  infinite?" 

"  Ned,  my  Ned ! "  was  the  endearing  cry. 
"  The  Red  Knight  is  singing  of  the  homes  he  will 
build  in  his  gardens  of  wheat,  of  the  tiny  fairies, 
the  little  children  of  the  plains  who  shall  play  in 
his  gardens — in  your  garden,  Ned,  and  mine." 

Ned's  answer  was  the  drawing  tight  of  his  great 
arms  and  the  sheltering  crush  of  his  mightier  love. 

A  mist  crept  over  Mary's  eyes.  Looking 
through  the  glad  tears  she  whispered: 

"  It  is  the  '  bestest '  year  we  have  ever  seen,  both 
for  us  and  for — them." 

Over  all  rose  the  moon,  now  white  and  serene, 
pouring  upon  them  the  silver  light  of  her  purity. 


fainted  in  the  United  States  of  America 


Popular  Copyright  Novels 

AT  MODERATE  PRICES 

Ask  Your  Dealer  for  a  Complete  List  of 
A.  L.  Burt  Company's  Popular  Copyright  Fiction 

Adventures  of  Jimmie  Dale,  The.     By  Frank  L.   Packard. 

Adventures  of  Sherlock  Holmes.     By  A.  Conan  Doyle. 

Affinities,  and  Other  Stories.     By  Mary  Roberts  Rinehart. 

After  House,  The.     By  Mary  Roberts  Rinehart. 

Against  the  Winds.     By   Kate  Jordan. 

Ailsa  Paige.    By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 

Also  Ran.     By  Mrs.  Baillie  Reynolds. 

Amateur  Gentleman,  The.    By  Jeffery  Farnol. 

Anderson   Crow,   Detective.     By    George    Barr   McCutcheon 

Anna,  the  Adventuress.     By   E.   Phillips   Oppenheim. 

Anne's  House   of  Dreams.     By   L.    M.    Montgomery. 

Anybody  But  Anne.    By  Carolyn  Wells. 

Are  All  Men  Alike,  and  The  Lost  Titian.     By  Arthur  Stringe* 

Around  Old  Chester.     By  Margaret   Deland. 

Ashton-Kirk,  Criminologist.    By  John  T.  Mclntyre. 

Ashton-Kirk,    Investigator.    By    John    T.    McTntyre. 

Ashton-Kirk,  Secret  Agent.     By  John  T.  Mclntyre. 

Ashton-Kirk,  Special  Detective.     By  John  T.   Mclntyre. 

Athalie.     By  Robert  W.  'Chambers. 

At  the  Mercy  of  Tiberius.     By  Augusta  Evans  Wilson. 

Auction  Block,  The.     By  Rex  Beach. 

Aunt  Jane  of  Kentucky.    By  Eliza  C.  Hall. 

Awakening  of  Helena  Richie.     By  Margaret  Deland. 

Bab:  a  Sub-Deb.    By  Mary  Roberts  Rinehart. 

Bambi.    By  Marjorie  Benton  Cooke. 

Barbarians.     By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 

Bar  20.     By  Clarence  E.  Mulford. 

Bar  20  Days.    By  Clarence  E.  Mulford. 

Barrier,  The.     By  Rex  Beach. 

Bars  of  Iron,  The.    By  Ethel  M.  Dell. 

Beasts  of  Tarzan,  The.    By  Edgar  Rice  Burroughs. 

Beckoning  Roads.     By  Jeanne  Judson. 

Belonging.     By  Olive  Wadsley. 

Beloved  Traitor,  The.     By  Frank  L.  Packard. 

Beloved  Vagabond,  The.     By  Wm.  J.  Locke. 

Beltane  the  Smith.    By  Jeffery  Farnol. 

Betrayal,  The.    By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Beulah.    (111.  Ed.)     By  Augusta  J.  Evans. 


Popular  Copyright  Novels 

AT  MODERATE  PRICES 

Ask  Your  Dealer  for  a  Complete  List  of 
A.  L.  Burt  Company's  Popular  Copyright  Fiction 

Beyond  the  Frontier.    By  Randall  Parrish. 

Big  Timber.    By  Bertrand  W.  Sinclair. 

Black  Bartlemy's  Treasure.     By  Jeffery  FarnoL 

Black  Is  White.    By  George  Barr  MoCutcheon. 

Blacksheep!    Blacksheep!.    By  Meredith  Nicholson. 

Blind  Man's  Eyes,  The.     By   Win.   Mac   Harg  and    Edwin 

Balmer. 

Boardwalk,  The.    By  Margaret  Widdemer. 
Bob  Hampton  of  Placer.    By  Randall  Parrish. 
Bob,  Son  of  Battle.    By  Alfred  Olivant. 
3ox  With  Broken  Seals,  The.    By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 
Boy  With  Wings,  The.    By  Berta  Ruck. 
I'randon  of  the  Engineers.    By  Harold  Bindloss. 
Bridge  of  Kisses,  The.    By  Berta  Ruck. 
Broad  Highway,  The.    By  Jeffery  Farnol. 
Broadway  Bab.     By  Johnston  McCulley. 
Brown  Study,  The.     By  Grace  S.  Richmond. 
Bruce  of  the  Circle  A.     By  Harold  Titus. 
Buccaneer  Farmer,  The.    By  Harold  Bindloss. 
Buck  Peters,  Ranchman.     By  Clarence  E.  Mulford. 
Builders,  The.    By  Ellen  Glasgow. 
Business  of  Life,  The.    By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 

Cab  of  the  Sleeping  Horse,  The.    By  John  Reed  Scott. 

Cabbage  and  Kings.    By  O.  Henry. 

Cabin  Fever.    By  B.  M.  Bower. 

Calling  of  Dan  Matthews,  The.    By  Harold  Bell  Wright. 

Caps  Cod  Stories.     By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

Cap'n  Abe,  Storekeeper.    By  James  A.  Co'oper. 

Cap'n  Dan's  Daughter.    By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

Cap'n  Erl.    By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

Cap'n  Jonah's  Fortune.    By  James  A.  Cooper. 

Cap'n  Warren's  Wards.    By  Joseph  'C.  Lincoln. 

Chinese  Label,  The.    By  J.  Frank  Davis. 

Christine  of  the  Young  Heart.  By  Louise  Breintenbach  Clancy. 

Cinderella  Jane.    By  Marjorie  B.  Cooke. 

Cinema  Murder,  The.    By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

City  of  Masks,  The.    By  George  Barr  McCutcheon 

Cieek  of  Scotland  Yard.    By  T.  W.  Hanshew, 


